Justice
by Cirocco
Summary: Semi-sequel to Pretty Picture.
1. Homecoming

**CHAPTER 1: HOMECOMING**

**Author's Note:** OK, phew, this is the last of the Pretty Picture stories.  It gives me hope that some day I may finish the Aftershock ones too!  I swear if I'd known waaay back in January what I was getting into starting PP, I just might have thrown my hands up in the air and run screaming.  In any case, thanks, Mary for encouraging me to get it written.

By the way, this is sort of a semi-sequel - at the end of PP, there's about a nine-month gap between the last chapter and the epilogue.  This takes place in the nine-month gap.

Oh, in case anybody's wondering about Aftershock: McCoy, yes, that is coming along... slowly as two snails playing cricket, but it is coming along.  It might even be readable sometime soon.  And there's also a sequel to Walk and Don't Look Back, burbling away.  Regrettably, both are coming slowly due to me going back to school.  I don't know what's wrong with me, allowing RL to take precedence over fanfic :)

**Added note:**As a sequel, it won't make any sense if you haven't read PP, but reading the companion pieces (Burden, Matrimony, Purgatory) is not necessary.

===__

_Sunday, January 4  
2:02am_

_Here, baby, you're gonna like this... you better pray that God can help you, 'cause nobody else here will.  In fact, they'd like to watch... whattaya think, you wanna put on a show?  Feel like a big man now?  Betcha wish you had your handcuffs, huh Detective?_

Rey awoke in a cold sweat, just like the last three nights.

"Rey?" Deborah's sleepy voice brought him back to reality.  She touched his shoulder and before he could tell his body what to do he was pulling away from her violently, getting out of bed, heart racing.

"Rey-"

He barely kept control, forcing down his panic.  Shit, shit, shit.  Breathe.  Breathe in and out, you can do this.  He clenched his fists, heart threatening to jump out of his chest, feeling an overwhelming need to run and get away.

"Rey.  Please.  Talk to me."

He wanted to answer her, but there was another voice that was louder than hers, telling him just how much he was going to wish he was dead.

"Rey!" Deborah's voice, sharp.  Had to get it together enough to answer her before she woke up the whole family.

"I'm OK," meaningless words.  He was not OK.  When you're afraid to go to sleep because you know you'll spend the night with a monster in your dreams, when you're afraid to lie down next to your wife because she might touch you in the night and you'll mistake her for somebody else and kill her, you're very, very far from OK.  But he didn't have words for how he actually felt.

"Rey.  Sit down, please."

"I - I can't.  I'm gonna go for a run, OK?" he pulled on a pair of sweat pants and a heavy shirt, noticing that the t-shirt he'd gone to sleep in was soaked through with perspiration.  Not bothering to take it off before getting dressed.

"Rey, please-"

Had to get out, had to get out.  It was an almost frantic need.  Not to be confined, not to be closed in.  Not to be near anybody.  He left the bedroom, bumping into his sister in the hallway.

"Rey?"

"Going out for a run," he shouldered past her before she could stop him, full of older-sister concern that he just couldn't take right now.

Pounding sprint, run until all of his muscles hurt, run until there was nothing but exhaustion and the overload of adrenaline was replaced by endorphins.  Run until all the images and voices were gone.  Just run and run and run.

===

Finally he headed back home, with barely enough energy left to drag himself up the stairs.  He reached his floor and paused outside the door, hoping against hope that Deborah and Lisa had gone to back to sleep and he could just go to sleep too.  Saw a light under the door, voices inside.  Damn.

OK, he would go in and plead exhaustion, surely they'd let him go to sleep, it was almost 3am.

"Rey?"

"Daddy?"

"Serena," he said, out of breath, "What are you doing up?"

"I heard you go out.  How come you're up, Daddy?"

"I went for a run."  Deborah and Lisa were also in the living room.  God damn it, the problem with living with nothing but females was that they always looked at you with those worried eyes.  If he had sons and a brother at home he wouldn't have this problem.  But no, a wife, a sister, and four daughters under the same roof, in two bedrooms.  And him the only male, smothered by their concern.

"Rey-"

"Not now, I have to shower," he quickly pulled a new pair of boxers and a t-shirt out of a drawer in the bedroom and headed for the washroom.

"Rey-"

"God damn it, leave me alone!" he pushed past his sister into the washroom.  Slammed the door in her face, a lot harder than he'd meant to, and heard Tania wail.  Crap.  Oh well, Lisa was here so she could damn well take care of Tania.  He turned on the shower and stripped off his soaked clothing, only now realizing that he was freezing. The shower was lukewarm as always, but it almost burned him.  It must have been cold out there while he was running, and he hadn't really been dressed for the cold of late night/early morning January in New York.

Fifteen minutes later, the tepid water now freezing, he finally got out shivering.  Dried off and dressed, teeth chattering, and left the washroom.  Great.  Now everybody was up, every pair of female eyes gazing at him in concern as he came out of the washroom.  Except Tania, who was screaming with frustration because Lisa was trying to get her to go to sleep and she didn't see why she should - after all, everybody else was up.  He approached his sister and held his arms out for Tania.  "I'll take her into the bedroom," she launched herself at him and he winced as her weight pulled on the cuts on his arms.

"Rey, let me-" his sister started.

"She needs to go to sleep," he turned his back on her, on all of his family staring at him like he was made of glass.  That look was really getting old.  He went into the girls' bedroom and turned out the light, swaying Tania back and forth, humming a tune to her softly.  Slowly, slowly, both he and Tania were getting tired.  His daughter's body was relaxing, her head snuggling into his shoulder, slowly getting heavier and comforting him as he comforted her.

Finally she was asleep.  He lay her down in her little bed.  Stood up, sighed.  He stepped out of the girls' bedroom, down the little hallway, to the edge of the living room.  All those eyes staring at him.  Damn it.

"OK, she's asleep.  You girls can go back to sleep too," he said shortly, turning to go back to his own room.  "Deborah, do you want me to put you to bed?" he tossed over his shoulder, pausing at the doorway.

"No-"

"Daddy-" he went into his room, closing the door.

"Rey, please," his sister opened the door, poking her head in, "don't run away from us."

He got into bed, irritated at her.  "Lisa, I'm tired, OK?  I need to sleep."

"Well we're all up now thanks to you-" her voice was full of sisterly annoyance.  She never let him get away with anything.

"Good for you, maybe you can all play cards or something." He turned over, his back to the door.

A few minutes later, Lisa brought Deborah into the bedroom.

"Rey, please, talk to me," she said softly when she was in bed next to him.

"Deborah, please, let me sleep," he said tiredly.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

"I do not want to talk about this."

She sighed, that special frustrated sigh that he was so familiar with, and he willed himself back to sleep.

===

_Monday, January 5  
3:15pm_

"Rey?" his sister said as he entered the house the next day after a short excursion out for grocery shopping.  "Jamie Ross just called - she wants you to call her back."

Rey sighed.  He knew what Jamie wanted to talk to him about, and he had no intention of returning her call.  He put the groceries away, noting that his arms didn't hurt so much any more.  He was slowly starting to heal.  Physically at least.

Jamie and Jack McCoy had come to see him the day after he'd come home, when he was in bed with a raging infection from the long gash on his forearm.  Who knew what bug from the prison had gotten in there, but he was feeling unwell and feverish, and still in pain from his various cuts and bruises.  After a brief greeting, Jamie had come straight to the point.

"Rey, I think you should press charges."

"What?" he'd been so puzzled by her suggestion that he hadn't even registered any kind of emotional reaction.

"A crime was committed against you - several, as a matter of fact - and you need to address it.  Jack isn't too sure yet whether there'll be enough evidence for a winnable criminal case, but I'm sure there's enough for a civil suit.  In any case, the first thing you need to do is make a statement and document your injuries."

He'd blinked at her, slowly processing her words.  "Document - as in, legally?"

"My firm has a forensic photographer on staff, we-"

"Are you outta your mind?" he'd finally felt something.  Anger and disbelief.  Jamie had traded a glance with Jack, as though they had expected this.  "No way," he'd told them firmly.

"Rey, you don't have to decide anything yet, but if you do decide to press charges later, you need to do this now."

"No."

"You know it's the right thing to do," Jack had said.  "It's a matter of basic justice."

Justice.  Sure.  "What, what's he going to get on top of what he's already got?  He's in for life.  I should know, I helped put him there."

"It's not just him-"

"Well I don't know the other men who - and there's no way to find out."

"Your cellmate would know."

"Harris would never testify.  He'd be slitting his own throat."

"Some guards might know."

"They won't testify either."

"It's not just against Gonzalez and the men with him," Jamie told him.  "The Warden, the head guard - they were supposed to protect you, and they didn't."

"No."

"At least go to a doctor."

"There's no reason to.  I got antibiotics for the infection, I don't need to go to a doctor."  Jamie had looked at him impatiently and he'd snapped, "Besides, I don't have any health insurance right now, OK?  Confessing to murder got me fired from the NYPD."

"My firm will pay any medical costs.  We can have our doctor and psychiatrist examine-"

"What is this, blackmail?  I can get medical care paid for as long as I agree to let my medical record be used in a court case?  Forget it."

"No strings attached."

"More charity then.  No thanks.  I'm fine."

"Rey-"

"Get out, OK?  I'm tired," he said, too sick and upset to bother with courtesy.

"We can talk about this later after you've had some rest, but you have to do it soon, before your injuries are healed."

Damn it.  All he wanted to do was sleep, he did not want to argue with a couple of lawyers through pain and a raging infection.  He blew out his breath.  "If I agree to the pictures, will you leave me alone?"

"You should make a statement too while the information is fresh in your mind-"

It's not gonna fade away, he thought but didn't say.  "There's no way in hell I'm gonna do that.  Pictures or nothing."  Jack and Jamie had glanced at each other and agreed.

So he'd let the photographer take close-ups of the cuts without the bandages, the bruises and scrapes from where he'd been thrown down to the ground and grabbed, not letting himself think about it, looking away from the camera, not wanting it to record the feeling of violation in his eyes.  Glad that at least the man had a matter-of-fact manner, calmly moving around and focussing on the long cut, on his scraped elbows and hands, not affecting the 'soothing voice' patter that many other forensic photographers used, although he'd balked when the photographer wanted to take pictures of his wrists.

"No," he'd told Jamie, who had accompanied the photographer.  "That doesn't have anything to do with him.  I did that to myself."

"Yes, but the trial won't - wouldn't just be about what he did," Jamie had pointed out.  "It would also be about the effects on you.  Your suicide attempt-"

"It wasn't a suicide attempt."

"The fact that you cut yourself to get away from him is pretty important."

"I wouldn't want it brought up."

"Rey - it's like everything else.  Leave the possibility open in case you change your mind later."

He'd taken the path of least resistance and given in, telling himself it didn't matter since he wasn't going to press charges anyway.

So now Jamie was calling him.  He had to hand it to her, she'd held off longer than he thought she would.  Well, too bad.  He still wasn't going to call her back.  She'd agreed to leave him alone if he got the pictures taken and he'd held up his part of the bargain.  The hell with Jamie and Jack if they thought he was gonna do any more than that.  He knew he should be grateful to them because without their help, he would still be in prison, but being grateful did not mean going along with whatever they wanted.  Especially if what they wanted was for him to dwell on those six days in Sing Sing.

===

_Tuesday, January 6  
10:01pm_

"You know I volunteered at a rape crisis centre," Deborah said the next night after he'd put the girls to bed.

"Good for you," he started to read through some kid's essay on Miranda rights.  _'You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions. Do you understand?' This is a direct declaration of the First Amendment._  No, that's the Fifth Amendment, idiot, he thought, and scratched a correction onto the kid's paper.

"You need to talk to somebody."

"Well it's not gonna be you.  Besides, I wasn't raped.  Nothing happened.  I'm fine." _'Anything you do say may be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand?' This is a correlation to the Fourth Amendment-_ What?  He re-read the sentence.  That didn't make much sense.  The Fourth Amendment is Unreasonable Search and Seizure, nothing to do with using a suspect's statements against him.  Besides, 'correlation'?  He wrote _look up 'correlation'_ on the paper, scratched out the Fourth Amendment.

"Lie to yourself all you want.  Don't lie to me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Rey.  Put that down."

"Deborah.  Let me be," he continued to read, then spared her a quick glance.  "This is due tomorrow.  I have to have seventeen more papers marked by tomorrow so I can drop them off at the prof's house before work.  It's ten o'clock.  It's gonna take me at least two more hours.  I don't have time for this."

"You've been home now for almost a week and you never have time to talk.  Please, Rey, you need to deal with what happened."

"I spent nine days in detention, I got some cuts and bruises and some stitches."  He corrected a typo in the kid's essay.  "What's to talk about?"

"Rey, please don't shut me out."

"There's nothing to shut you out of."

"You weren't raped but you were sexually assaulted, you were badly hurt, and you were driven to slit your own wrists to escape that man.  You can't have walked away from all of that completely unaffected."

"I'm fine."

"Then why do you keep waking up at night?  Why haven't you touched me since you came home?"

"Why, you want me to?" he kept his eyes on the essay. _'You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future. Do you understand?' This is symbolic of the Sixth Amendment._  Finally got the amendment right, but 'symbolic'?  What was this kid on when she wrote this?

"Yes, I do.  I got used to sleeping with you and being touched again.  And I'd like that back."

"I'm busy, OK?  And the cuts still hurt.  You wanna just get used to the way things were before, until I don't have to worry that I'll pull a stitch and bleed all over the bed again?" he continued to mark.  "And this is a bit of a switch, you wanting me to touch you," he muttered.

"It's a bit of a switch for me too, being the one who's constantly being rejected," she said evenly.  He looked up, startled.  "Now I know how you felt."

"I'm not rejecting you."  He frowned at her.  "Deborah, I'm not rejecting you.  I just want my own space for a bit."

"Rey, you're - you're pulling away from me.  Don't," she looked so sad.  Damn it.  He hated that look on her face.  He put his hand on hers, trying to reassure her.

"I'm not trying to.  I just need space. I'm sorry, but I'm not gonna be able to talk to you about what happened, or about the nightmares or anything.  You don't need to know about it."

===

_Wednesday, January 7  
7:34pm_

"So... you're looking better," Lennie said the next evening as they finished cleaning up the kitchen.  Lennie had come by for dinner, a relatively pleasant meal.  Things were getting back to normal.  Lisa was still staying with them, which Rey gathered was causing problems at home, from what he'd overheard of a call between his sister and her husband.  However, when he suggested that he was fine and she should go home, she'd brusquely told him to mind his own business.

"Yeah, the infection's almost gone.  Still itches a bit, but that's clearing up."

"Clear up a lot faster if you didn't scratch the cuts," Serena put in caustically, putting away dishes.  Rey nodded impatiently.  He was trying, but he wasn't always aware he was doing it.  And they itched like hell.

"Lisa says you're going back to work?"

"Yeah.  My boss came over a couple days ago.  Said he got me reinstated.  Said I should probably take some time off, but... well, we can't afford that.  So I'm going back Monday."

Lennie nodded, privately thinking that Rey really should take more time off, whether he could afford it or not.  Then again, sometimes going back to work could be therapeutic, a way to get things back to a regular routine.

Besides, from what he'd seen of Rey's interactions with his family over dinner, maybe getting away from them might be a good idea.  Rey had bitten his tongue more than once to keep from snapping at his family as they fussed over him, insisting that he eat more, not letting him clear the table... he looked like he'd had just about enough of their tender loving care.  After dinner, he'd taken Deborah to her room to rest and sent Lisa off to go get some milk, although as far as Lennie could tell, it was an excuse to get her out of the house and off his back for a little while.  Lennie was pretty sure she'd seen through Rey's request, but left anyway.

Serena turned to put something away, then her eyes widened and she swore.  Rey turned to reprimand her, then saw what she was staring at and forgot all about her poor language.

"Tania! Put that down!!  Deja eso!!" he shouted, and rushed to the little girl's side.  He snatched a bottle from her hand and looked into the washroom.  The entire contents of the cabinet under the bathroom sink were strewn across the bathroom floor.  Dozens of pill bottles, sanitary supplies, toilet paper, shaving razors, the contents of a small box of condoms, syringes and liquid medication, in a huge mess.

"Quien dejo esta puerta abierta?!" he demanded furiously.  The three older girls, who had come running to the washroom too, glanced at each other.  "Who did it?!  Come on!!"

"Creo que fui yo..." Isabel said reluctantly.  Rey signalled to Olivia to take Tania, grasped Isabel's wrist, unceremoniously hauled her into the girls' bedroom and slammed the door.  From behind the door they could hear him giving Isabel hell for a few minutes, and Isabel answering meekly.  Finally he came out of the bedroom, slamming the door again and leaving Isabel inside.  He came back to the washroom, still steamed.

"Rey... she just left a cabinet door open..." ventured Lennie.  Serena and Olivia shook their heads at him vehemently.

"That's a medicine cabinet, Uncle Lennie," said Serena.  "It's real important to keep it locked so Tania don't get in."

"Yeah, you think Jack would defend me again if another family member died taking MS drugs?" Rey shot at him.  "Isabel knows how important it is to not leave that open," he said angrily.  Lennie could tell that most of the anger was coming from fear for Tania's safety.

"OK.  Let's see the damage.  Crap," he said, kneeling down on the washroom floor and looking at the mess of bottles strewn around him.  They all searched and found no missing bottle caps, no open bottles.

"Well, thank god for that," said Olivia.  She knelt down beside him and started to pick up bottles, then picked up the condoms and put them back into their box, her face carefully expressionless.

Rey spared her a brief glance and said, "Olivia, let me do this, OK?  You watch Tania."

"I've got her, Dad," Serena said from the door, glancing at the living room where Tania had found a plastic hammer and was hammering away at the furniture.  Olivia went to put the condoms back in the medicine cabinet.  Rey took them from her and tossed them in the trash along with the toilet paper Tania had unravelled.

"Don't you and Mom need them, Daddy?" Serena asked.

"No," Rey said shortly.

"But I thought-"

"Don't think, please."

"Dad, we can't handle another little sister," Serena said seriously.  He smiled slightly, concentrating on the mess on the floor.

"You aren't getting any more, don't worry."

"How can you be sure?" Olivia shook her head at Serena, warning her to back off.

"Believe me, I'm sure."

"Dad..."

"Look, I'm sure, OK?  Even if - I can't have any more kids."  He grimaced impatiently at Serena's dubious expression.  "I had an operation.  We're not having any more kids.  Don't worry about it."

"You mean a vasectomy?" Serena asked.

Lennie's eyebrows went up and he realized that he felt somewhat shocked at Serena's advanced knowledge for her age.  Kids these days.  "I think I was about forty before I knew what a vasectomy was," he commented.

"Was that around when they were invented?" Rey asked innocently.

"And the Church says that's OK?" Serena asked.

"No, definitely not."

"You went against the Church?!"

"Yes," he said shortly, stacking the toilet paper back under the cabinet while Olivia gathered up the sanitary supplies.

"How come?"

"Because the Church doesn't approve but the Church wasn't gonna take care of you kids.  We already had four of you, and your mom was sick, and... we just couldn't take the chance that we'd have another child."

"What did Father Morelli say?"

"He was pretty mad."

"Did he absolve you?"

"Not for a long time.  It's a pretty big no-no."

"Why?  What's the big deal?  You're just saying you don't want more kids, it's not like you're killing anybody," said Serena dismissively.

"To the Church, it is like killing something," Rey sat back and stopped tidying for a moment, trying to explain.  "It's... according to the Church, the ability to have kids is a gift that God gives us.  And when you're married, making love is supposed to be something you do because you love each other and because you're willing to accept the gift of children if He chooses to bless you with them.  When you use artificial contraceptives or have an operation... it's like you're rejecting a gift from God.  It's like you're killing the fertility that God gave you."

Serena thought for a moment.  "Whatever.  I still think you were right to do it."

"Well, there you go," he said, tidying some more.

"Do you?"

He shrugged.  "I'm not sure.  I don't regret it, but... I don't know if it was the right thing to do."

"So why did you have condoms if you didn't need them, then?"

Rey sighed wearily.  "Serena..." Olivia said, annoyed.

"What?  I'm just asking a question."

"Condoms aren't just for preventing babies, they're also for protecting you against diseases.  Especially if you're with somebody you don't know very well," Rey informed her evenly.  Serena suddenly got it and looked down, embarrassed.

"Oh."

"Yeah.  Oh," Rey echoed.  "Is it possible for us to move away from this conversation now?  Or is there any more really personal stuff you'd like aired out?"  Serena shook her head quickly.  "Thank you," he said, a little sarcastically.

"Dad, how come you went against the Church?"

"Oh for God's sake."

"You never go against what the Church says."

"That's not true," he said, starting to sort pill bottles.  He and Olivia seemed to be classifying them, putting them in small groups as they worked.

"Well, you do, but you think it's wrong when you do it," Serena corrected herself.

"Not always, sweetheart.  There's a few times where I haven't done what the Church says and I didn't think I was wrong, either."

"Like what?"

He thought for a minute.  "Like perjury.  That was definitely against the Church's teachings."

"You think you were right to do it?" Olivia asked.

"Yeah I do.  Maybe not right, but definitely justified."

"You thought it was OK?"

"Not OK, just... I don't know what I could have done differently."

"Even after everything that happened to you?"

"Especially after what happened to me," he said vehemently.

"How come?  You were hurt really badly," Serena said softly.

"Better me than you.  Better me than any of you.  I'll heal," he dismissed her concern.

"What did Father Morelli say?" she asked curiously.

"About what?"

"About you committing perjury.  Did he absolve you?"

"Yeah.  He understood that it was the least wrong thing I could have done."

"What's this one?" Olivia asked, holding out a bottle.  Rey looked at it and winced inwardly.

"It's a pill bottle," he told her facetiously.

"I know that, but it's for you."

"Yeah."

"What's it for, Daddy?"

He briefly considered lying.  It could be an antibiotic.  Or sleeping medication, or anything.  But lying wasn't healthy, Olivia was thirteen and plenty bright enough to look it up, and she probably would.  "It's an anti-depressant," he said quietly, took the bottle from her and put it in the medicine cabinet.  Lennie winced inwardly too.  He knew Rey hated the fact that he took anti-depressants, and it couldn't be easy admitting it to his daughters.

"You take anti-depressants, Daddy?"

"Yeah."

"Since when?"

"Since right after I was arrested."

"How come?"

"Because I was depressed, Olivia.  Why do you think people take anti-depressants?" that came out a little more sharply than he'd meant it to.

"You mean you were sad?" Serena asked.

"Something like that."

"And you had to take medicine to not be sad any more?"

"Pretty much."

"I get sad too, I don't take medicine for it."  Lennie smiled slightly at Serena's oversimplification.

"Sweetie, depression isn't just being sad," Rey tried to explain.  "That's part of it, but... it's like being really, really sad all the time and you can't shake it.  And tired, and hopeless.  It makes you not able to function very well."

"It's a chemical imbalance," Lennie put in.  "When you take medicine, it helps fix the imbalance.  Makes it so you can have other feelings again."

"Is it like a disease?"  Serena asked.

"Yeah.  It's a mental illness," Rey said.

"You have a mental illness?" Olivia said, her voice a little incredulous.  Rey winced inwardly again.

"Yeah, I do," he replied, keeping his voice matter-of-fact.  "Not bad enough to need to be in a hospital, but bad enough that I need medication." Olivia looked at him, dark eyes serious.

"How come you were depressed?"

"Oh, I dunno," he shrugged.  "Just life, I guess. Everything was just really tough - I was taking care of all of you by myself, and your mom and I weren't getting along, and we didn't have any money, and I wasn't doing so good at work... and I was disappointed in myself over a lot of stuff.  It was just kinda too much."

"Was I part of that?"  Serena asked.  He thought for a moment.  It was so difficult to balance honesty with kindness in this family.

"Serena... you're just a kid.  What you were doing was stuff any kid might do in your situation.  Mostly what bothered me was that I wasn't handling it very well."

"So what's different now?"

He shrugged.  "The anti-depressants help a lot.  And we've got lots of help now.  And you and me are getting along a lot better, and your mom and me are OK."

"It helps that I'm not on your case so much?"

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"Yeah, of course it does.  Why's that surprise you?"

"I dunno, I guess I thought... I thought you didn't like me very much.  I didn't think it mattered if I liked you or not."

He frowned at her, confused.  "Are you serious?"

"Yeah..."

"Serena..." he shook his head.  "You're my daughter.  How could you think it didn't matter what you thought of me?"  She shrugged.  "It does.  It matters a heck of a lot."

"I'm really trying not to get on your case, you know."

"I know, I can tell," he smiled at her.

"Is that how come you cried the night you came home?  Cause you were depressed?" Olivia asked.

Rey winced again.  He really really really didn't want to talk about that with anybody, let alone his daughters.  "Um... no, I don't - I don't know, maybe.  I was just upset.  Prison wasn't a very nice place to be."

"But you were out."

He sighed.  "Yeah, I know.  It didn't feel like I was out though.  And I wasn't very happy 'cause I got upset when Jack grabbed my shoulder."

"Why'd you get upset?"

No, he really couldn't go into this with them.  "Sweetie... um... it's a little hard to explain that.  It was just... I spent a lot of my time trying to avoid the guy who cut my arm.  Um, and when Jack grabbed my shoulder for a minute there I thought he was that other guy.  And you know what?  I'm ending this topic right here.  Sorry.  We're gonna have to talk about something else."

They were quiet for a moment, as he and Olivia kept working at sorting out the medication.  Lennie reflected that he had no idea there was so much medication in a house with two invalids, and he didn't know how Rey kept it all straight.  He supposed it paid to be uptight about organization.  When they used to work together, Rey's desk had always been rather freakishly neat.

"What about sex before marriage?" Serena asked.

"What is it with you and sex questions?" Rey asked her impatiently.  "What about sex before marriage?"

"Well, you said you don't always agree with the Church.  Do you agree with the Church that you shouldn't have sex before marriage?"

"Yeah, mostly."

"Did you?"

"Have sex before marriage?" she nodded.  "Uh, yeah."

"You weren't a virgin when you got married?

"No," he chuckled, "I was twenty-four, I wasn't a virgin."

"Was Mommy?'

"You'd have to ask her."

"How old were you when you stopped being a virgin?"

"Serena, that's way too personal."

"Well, how old would we have to be before you thought it was OK?"

"I have no idea.  You're nowhere close to that age, though."

"I know that," she said, a little indignantly.  "Do you expect us to wait till we're married?"

Rey thought for a moment.  "I'd like you to, but no, I guess I don't expect you to.  I do expect you to behave yourselves, though."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I expect you to... I don't know, not sleep around.  If you're gonna sleep with somebody and you're not married to them, it should be somebody you love.  I know, I know," he put up a hand wearily, anticipating Serena's next comment, "I expect you to do as I say, not as I do.  What was it you said once, Lennie?  I'd rather be a terrible warning or something..."

"'I'd rather be a terrible warning to my children than a good example'," Lennie supplied.

"Yeah, I wouldn't have minded being a good example, but hey, take what you can get, right?" Rey smiled bitterly.  Olivia gazed at him thoughtfully, head cocked to the side.

"Why shouldn't we do what you did?" Serena asked.

"Are you kidding?" he asked her skeptically, but she seemed serious.  He cleared his throat.  "One night stands?" she nodded.  He frowned, trying to find the words.  "I just wouldn't recommend the lifestyle, Serena.  It's... it's like a junk-food sex life.  It's like living on chips and coke and chocolate.  May seem good at the time, but it's no good for you in the long run," he trailed off uncomfortably, and went back to sorting pills.

"And it's dangerous," Lennie added.  "There's a lotta sickos out there.  You could get hurt."

Serena shrugged, looking back at Rey.  "You coulda got hurt too.  You still did it."  Rey sighed and rubbed his forehead, trading glances with Lennie.  How to explain one-night stands to an eleven-year old.  Not something they teach in parenting school.

"It's just... making love is supposed to be something two people do together when they love each other.  It's supposed to be sacred.  Not something you do with any stranger just for kicks."

"Then how come you did?"

"Oh, we are not going there.  Not in this lifetime," he said definitively.  He paused in his sorting of the medications on the floor.  "You know, when I was a kid the thought of my parents having sex at all grossed me out.  I definitely didn't want to talk to them about it," he commented.

"I'm not you.  I wanna know how come you hurt Mom and us by going out and sleeping around.  And you said I could talk about this when I wasn't gonna upset anybody else.  Olivia doesn't look upset, Uncle Lennie doesn't look upset."

"I guess uncomfortable doesn't count?" Lennie asked, and Olivia nodded, silently agreeing with him.

"Don't forget wanting to embarrass me too, I'm sure that's gotta be part of it," Rey said, irritated.

"Is it working?"

"Hell, yes," he muttered.

"Good," she said, jaw jutting out.  "You said you deserved it.  You said I could."

"Serena, you think maybe you could ease up on me a bit until I'm not feeling so upset about just having got outta prison?" he snapped, exasperated.  "Or is that too much to ask?  Can you gimme a few days off?"  Serena took in his expression, angry and annoyed, and to Lennie's surprise, looked contrite.

"OK," she said quietly.  "I'm sorry."

As he and Olivia finished putting the pills in order, Rey paused and regarded Serena pensively for a moment.  "Actually... that's OK.  Don't go back to needling me, but... it's nice to see somebody here acting normal around me," he gave her a small smile.

_Monday January 19  
11:12am_

"...how I spent my Christmas vacation, by Rey Curtis, NYPD.  I can't believe Bensen let him back."

Rey closed his eyes and took a deep breath before switching over the paper in the photocopier.  He'd been back at work for a week now, and this was the third time he'd overheard Vandine bring him up as a topic of conversation.  Asshole.  He seemed to be at the water cooler right outside the photocopy room again - guy spent more time there than at his desk.  And it sounded like there were quite a few people there with him.  Great.

"He was cleared," he heard another colleague protest.

"Hey, he confessed.  My buddy at the 2-7 told me.  He confessed.  What the hell's he doing still allowed to carry a badge?"

"Bensen knows what he's doing."

"Yeah, right, Bensen just feels sorry for him cause his wife's sick, oh, poor Curtis, let's all cover for him-"

"Vandine..."

"Naw, come on, man, he's right.  Guy needs to get his act together."

"He was doing a lot better before the trial-"

"Right.  Except now he'll probably have a hell of an excuse, Oh, I was in prison, some nasty convict made me his sweetheart, oh I can't finish this budget form-"

"Hey, you don't know what happened in prison.  He was only in a few days."

"We know he got roughed up.  Don't you wanna know how bad?"

"No, I don't."

"Aw, come on, he did hard time, our man Curtis.  Don't you wonder just how hard?"

"Don't be a pig, Vandine," one of his coworkers said amid a few embarrassed titters from the others.

"Come on, don't you wanna know-"

Rey's patience snapped.  He left the photocopier running and left the photocopy room, turning the corner to the water cooler.

"Hey.  Vandine.  You got something to say to me?"  He registered startled, guilty looks on the faces of his other colleagues, and Vandine's face flushing darkly.

"No-"

"No, you look like you have something to say.  A lot to say, actually.  You wanna ask me some questions?"  Vandine looked pissed off now.  He should be - pissed at himself for not at least making sure the object of his gossip wasn't right around the corner.  "Go ahead.  You know you want to.  You been saying all this shit at the water cooler, why don't you say it to my face."

"Curtis..."

"I know, you wanna ask hey, did some big tough con have me grabbing my ankles?  That's what you wanna ask?  Did I make some special friends?"  Vandine opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, at least having the grace to look embarrassed.  Rey felt his own anger growing, not abating.

"Oh - here's another one.  Did I get up close and personal with the criminal element in Sing Sing?  Did I get to be some lifer's bitch?  Did I discover my feminine side?"

"Come on, Curtis-"

Suddenly the situation became very tense as Rey slammed Vandine against the wall and held him in a chokehold.

"OK, here's my fucking feminine side," he said, his voice softly menacing, and slammed Vandine's head against the wall again.  "Come on, you had lotsa questions.  Where are they now?"

"Come on, man, take a fucking pill-" Vandine wheezed, face turning purple.

"Take a fucking pill?" Rey slammed him against the wall again and Vandine brought his hands up to get Rey's hands off his collar.  Another officer, Brackin, grabbed Rey's shoulder and tried to pull him off of Vandine.

"Curtis, come on, he's just being an asshole, don't-" Brackin found himself holding his jaw as Rey viciously elbowed him off, then punched him.  Then three other officers were pulling Rey off and holding him securely, and Lt. Bensen was there.

_Hands all over him holding him fast couldn't get away-_

"DON'T!!" he heard the panic in his voice and forced himself to get a grip.  "Let go of me!  Let.  Go."  He took a deep breath and made himself as still as possible, knowing that if he struggled he'd probably just end up in a holding cell.  Incarcerated, again.  "I, I won't hit him again, just, just... let go."

Lt. Bensen took in Rey's tightly controlled expression and the extreme tension in his voice and body, and quickly signalled to the other three to let go.  Rey pulled away from them and backed away slowly, trying to control his shaking and shallow breathing.

"OK, OK, Curtis, Vandine, Brackin, into my office, the rest of you, back to your desks.  Now!"

"What the hell happened?" Bensen demanded as he closed his office door.

"Vandine was shooting off at the mouth-" Brackin began, rubbing his jaw.

"Hey, I was just talking-" Vandine looked at Rey, pale, eyes on the floor, arms crossed tightly, and stopped, biting his lip.  "I was shooting off at the mouth, sir.  I'm sorry, I was outta line," he said quietly.

"Curtis?  Anything to say for yourself?" Bensen asked.

Rey shook his head silently.  What was there to say?  He'd attacked two of his coworkers.  Provocation didn't matter.  With five people dependent on his income and him on probation at work, he couldn't afford to indulge his stupid temper.

"Anybody throw a punch other than Curtis?"  They all shook their heads.

"Fine.  Curtis, you're suspended without pay immediately.  You two go back to your desks."

"Lieutenant-" Vandine began.

"Get out of here."  They started to file out.  "Curtis, you stay behind."

"What did he say?' Bensen asked once the other two had left.  Rey shook his head again.  Bensen sighed.  "You know you're on probation.  You've been showing up for work, handing everything in on time, you've been doing so damn well and now this."

"I'm sorry sir."

Bensen ran his hand through his hair.  "Look.  We all know you're under a lot of pressure, but I can't keep covering for you.  You shouldn't have come back so soon after getting out.  So take two weeks, starting immediately.  One week's suspension, one week personal leave."

"Sir... I can't afford that," Rey forced himself to say.

"You'll have to find some way to afford it, then.  I'll try to help out, maybe we can get the paperwork for your pay through or something, but you are not coming back for two weeks.  Is that clear?"

"Yes sir."  He left the office quietly, made himself walk back to his desk across the roomful of curious eyes, gathered his things, and left.

Bensen watched him go and blew his breath out in frustration.  God damn it.  Trouble seemed to follow Curtis like he was a walking curse.  Vandine was an idiot, and Bensen had no doubt that whatever Vandine had said had been provocation enough to warrant whatever Curtis did, but this was a precinct and he couldn't allow the people under his command to physically assault each other without consequences.  No matter how far they were provoked, no matter what personal issues they might be dealing with.

There was one thing he could do, though.  He could at least try to use his influence to try to make those personal issues easier to deal with.  He went back to his desk and pulled out his departmental phone book to contact the PBA.

===

"How come you're home?" Rey looked up as he started up the steps to his apartment building.  Lisa was coming down the steps, looking harried.

He shook his head, still no idea what to say even though he'd been trying to figure out how he was gonna explain this to his family the whole way home.  "Where are you going?"

Lisa blew out her breath in impatience.  "Serena - the school just called, she's been suspended again."

Rey stared at his sister for a moment, then found himself laughing in disbelief.  Oh, this was perfect.  "No kidding.  What for?"

"She got in a fight," Lisa said, peering at him in puzzled consternation.

He rubbed his forehead, willing away the beginning of a massive headache.  Like father, like daughter.  Jesus.  "OK.  OK, don't worry about it, I'll go get her."

"Rey?  Are you OK?"

"Yeah, yeah."

===

"I'm sorry Daddy," Serena said meekly after he had finished talking with the principal.  It seemed some kid had made derogatory remarks about Serena's 'retard' kid sister, and Serena had dealt with it by using him as a punching bag.  A week's suspension.  Like father like daughter indeed.

"OK.  Let's go home," he told her tiredly, and they left the school in silence.

Later, on the subway, she tentatively spoke up.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah."

"How come you're not yelling at me?"

He chewed on his lip and stared out the window, wondering as he often had in the last few years how things had come to be so different from what they had once been.  How he now found himself on the subway, taking his daughter home after her fourth suspension from school, not even able to be angry with her since he was under suspension himself.  How did that happen?  He used to be really good at his job.  His biggest worry at work was that he'd miss some clue and a felon would get away.  His biggest worry about his daughters was that they might not like school or date the wrong boys when they got older.  How did they get from there to here?

"Daddy?"  Serena cut into his brooding.  He sighed and levelled with her.

"Honestly, I can't.  I'm not that big a hypocrite."

"What?"

"I just got suspended too, sweetie," he said, his voice quiet, still looking out the window.

"What?!" her eyes widened in disbelief.

"I hit two of my coworkers.  So we're gonna spend the week together."

"Daddy."

"Yeah.  Hey, you wanna maybe take an anger management course together or something?" he joked weakly.  She giggled.  He smiled at her wryly.  "Nice father-daughter bonding experience, yeah?"

"How come you hit them?"  He looked away.

"Doesn't matter.  Man, this is gonna be tough to explain to your Mom."

"She's probably gonna yell a lot."

"You wanna do paper, scissors, rock to see who goes first?"  Serena giggled again.

"You go first.  Then she won't be so mad at me even though it's my fourth time."  He nodded and she put her arms around him, snuggling close.  He rested his chin on top of her head and they rode the rest of the way home in companionable silence.

===

_Tuesday January 20  
5:58pm_

"I heard what happened," Lennie said the next day as he came into the laundry room in the basement of Rey's building.

"Yeah," Rey said heavily.  Lennie must have gone to the apartment first and found out from Lisa or Deborah.  Unless one of them had called him to let him know.  He wouldn't put it past his sister, since his life had become an open book with Lennie as far as she was concerned.

"How long are you suspended?"

"Two weeks.  Well, one week, plus one week enforced 'personal time'."  He started another load of darks.  "And you know what?  Bensen called this morning.  He'll only let me go back to work if I agree to go see a shrink."

"That's probably not a bad idea."

Rey blew out his breath bitterly.  "No, it's not a bad idea.  He worked it out with the PBA so my 'issues' with my coworkers could be called 'work-related stress'.  That way the department pays.  Ten sessions."  Yet another thing he was being forced to do for his own good.  Lennie gazed at him, reading the seething resentment in his body language.

"Rey.  You - you've been through a lot-"

"No.  Don't, OK?  Just don't even start."

"What?"

"Don't try to make this OK.  I lost my temper and I should have known better.  I'm suspended, just like my eleven-year old daughter, for not playing nice with the other kids.  You - you can't put a positive spin on this."

"I'm sorry."

"And he's still letting me back.  I'm on probation, and he's bent over backwards to let me back.  I don't even know why.  He coulda fired me.  He had every right."

Lennie thought for a moment.  "Remember Mickey Scott's execution?"  Rey glanced at him impatiently.  "Sorry, dumb question.  But... I fell off the wagon and you and Van Buren gave me another chance.  You didn't have to."

"That's different.  For one thing I'd messed up just as bad as you that day so I was feeling sympathetic.  And for another... Lennie," he looked away, putting in a load of whites, "You weren't a screw-up any more.  You'd been OK for almost four years.  You could show that you deserved another chance."  He swallowed.  "I can't."

"You were doing good before this.  Before the trial, you'd pulled up, you-"

"I was showing up for work and handing things in on time.  The bare minimum," he interrupted bitterly.  "I'm sorry.  It's just... I wish..." he took a deep breath, "I wish so much that I could do well, not just be barely adequate."  Lennie winced at the longing in his voice.  He remembered that feeling very well from his first days struggling to get his career back on track after being a drunk for so many years.

"You know, I know everything happens for a reason.  And I know I was too arrogant before and, and I needed to be taken down a notch.  But I feel like telling whoever's in charge enough already, you know?  You made your point.  Don't belabour it."  Lennie smiled slightly in sympathy.  Yeah.  Whatever arrogance had been there before, it was long gone.

"And it's like I can't even hang on to anything good either.  Like - like when I first went in, there was an inmate there who'd been a cop before too.  And I found out he'd done a lotta coke inside.  And I told myself I had no right to judge, but I still thought, hey, at least I never did anything harder than pot - I mean, it's still illegal, it's still wrong, but at least it's not as bad as coke."  He sighed.

"So there I am, one of the only things I've still got going for me is I haven't done hard drugs, and then a few days later I'm in the infirmary and on that last day I woulda taken anything.  Coke, heroin, PCP, crack, whatever.  If anybody had offered me anything at all and told me it would kill the pain, I woulda taken it, no question."  He bit his lip.  "And now this.  As bad as things got before at work, at least I hadn't been fired or suspended.  I was on probation, but at least - well, so much for that.  God damn suspended.  And next time, I'm out.  And there's gonna be a next time.  I know there is.  I can't - I'm no better than Serena when it comes to just walking away when some asshole starts talking trash."

"What did he say?"

Rey didn't answer for a moment.  "What do you think, Lennie?  'He did hard time, our man Curtis.  Don't you wanna know how hard?'  Among other things."  He swallowed and looked away.  "I wonder why it is that when it happens to a woman, it's a crime, but when it happens to a man, it's a joke," he said softly.

"It is a crime.  It's not a joke."

"Bullshit," he met Lennie's eyes again, his expression bitter.  "You've joked about it, so have I, so has every cop.  'You better talk right now or you'll be grabbing your ankles for some tough guy in Attica'.  'Keep it up, pal, and you're gonna be all you can be for your new friends in Sing Sing.'  Not so damn funny now."

Lennie sighed.  He'd really thought things would be OK once Rey got home.  He'd thought getting him out of prison was the hard part, but it looked like that had been only the beginning.  He just hoped Rey was wrong when he said there was going to be a next time.  Rey couldn't afford a next time.

===

**Author's Note:** Translations for the linguistically obsessed:

"Tania! Put that down!!  Deja eso!!"  
Leave that!!

"Quien dejo esta puerta abierta?!" he demanded furiously.  
Who left this door open?

"Creo que fui yo..." Isabel said reluctantly.  
I think it was me...


	2. Coping Strategies

**CHAPTER 2: COPING STRATEGIES**

_Thursday, January 22  
7:34pm_

"Rey?  What is it?" Deborah asked as Rey swore under his breath, shoving aside a stack of bills.

"We're over-budget again."

"Again?" she sighed.

"With the fine from my charge and the one month delay from the precinct, and the suspension...  and the stop-payment from John Jay... I don't know what we're gonna do.  We can't make rent this month.  And Flora already said if we got behind one more time..."

"I know," Deborah sighed again and pushed her hand through her hair.

"It won't be so bad next month, as soon as my pay comes in, but... for this month..."

"Is there anything we can trim?" she asked hopelessly.

"God, I don't know.  We're already... we're already at bare bones.  The only thing I can think of is my meds, and that's-"

"That's not an option," Deborah said firmly.

"We can't cut yours or Tania's."

"Or yours.  It's not a luxury, Rey.  You need them more than ever now."

"It wouldn't help us make rent anyway, it's not that much money," he said glumly.

"You know, I know where to get more money..." Serena suggested.

"Sweetie, don't worry about it, we'll figure something out," he told her in a distracted tone of voice, rubbing the back of his neck and preparing to go over their figures again.

"But Daddy, you know I can get us a lot more money.  We wouldn't have to worry about rent.  It would just be for this month."

Rey and Deborah suddenly got what she was saying and traded glances, both turning pale.  "Serena, you better not be saying what it sounds like you're saying."

"Daddy-"

"No.  You don't even joke about that.  You don't ever even think about it again, got it?  I am NOT going to prison again!!"

"But Daddy, what if we can't make rent?  We'll get evicted-"

"Then we'll go to a fucking homeless shelter!!" he shouted at her.  She gaped at him, scared, as all activity in their home came to a frozen stop.  He suddenly stood and pulled her by the arm to her room, almost throwing her into the room and slamming the door behind them.

"Sit!" he commanded her, pointing to her bed. He sat down on Olivia's bed, trying with everything he had to keep control despite his growing panic and anger.  "OK.  Listen up.  You are never, ever, going to deal again.  You got that?  I don't care if we go to a shelter, I don't care if we're eating at soup kitchens every day, I don't care if we're so poor we have to break up this family and have you all in foster care again, you are never, ever, _ever_ going to deal again.  Understand?"

"Yes," she said, her voice very small.

"Serena..." he rubbed his face, completely at a loss over how to reach her and make sure the idea never crossed her mind again..  "Look, you know I went to prison for you, and I don't - I don't want you to ever feel guilty about that... but you can't ever, EVER break the law again.  Understand?  You can't.  If you do, and you're caught, you'll go to juvie and I went through hell to make sure you wouldn't have to.  Don't make that a waste!"   He put his head in his hands for a moment, trying to calm himself down.

This was awful.  She was only a child, too little to have to think about any of this.  Kids her age shouldn't even know that there was such a thing as drugs.  They definitely shouldn't be deciding whether to sell them or not.

Abruptly he came to a decision.  He sat down on Serena's bed next to her and quickly peeled his bandages off.  "Take a look.  Take a really close look.  That's twelve stitches on this one," he traced the forearm cut, "and five on this one, and six on this one," he traced the ones on his wrists.  "That's twenty-three stitches.  This one was from a guy who was trying to rape me," her eyes widened. "He wasn't just trying to beat me up.  And these ones, I made, because it was the only way I could get sent to the hospital to get away from him.  That's what I have all those nightmares about.  OK?  That could happen to you too."

Serena paled, staring at his cuts in shock.  She brought her hands up to her mouth, looked up at him in horror.

"That's what happened to you?"

He nodded silently.

"Did... did he-"

"He didn't, he just tried.  But he was going to when I made the cuts."

"What happened?"

"The guards came and took me to the infirmary, then I got put under and put on suicide watch.  They didn't know I'd just done it to get away, they thought I was trying to kill myself."

"Did you tell them?"

"No.  I was only there a couple days before Jack got the judge to set me free."

"You... you cut yourself?  You cut yourself with a knife?"

He nodded, holding her gaze.  "It was the only way I could get away from him.  That's what happens in prison.  It's a horrible place to be.  I was in for less than a week, and what happened to me there is gonna be with me for a long, long time.  And if you go to prison, the same thing could happen to you, or worse."

"But... why didn't you just tell them what he was trying to do?"

"Inmates don't matter in prison.  Nobody cares about your safety in there, nobody cares about making sure that you're OK.  As long as you're not dead, anything else that happens to you in there doesn't matter."

"Even - even rape?"

"Even rape.  While I was in the infirmary another inmate was brought in who'd been raped by a bunch of guys, and nobody cared.  They joked about it.  They just said he better find himself somebody to protect him, 'cause they weren't going to."

"But who was supposed to protect him?"

"If you're weak or you're a target, like if you're a snitch or an ex-cop or something, you have to find an inmate who'll protect you from the other inmates.  And you pay them, with money or drugs or by letting them have sex with you."  He paused.  "The guy that was attacking me?  I was told I should be grateful because he was offering to protect me from everybody else."

Serena stared at him, horrified

"It happens in women's prisons and in juvie too.  You'd be a target because you testified against Tammy Morisen.  Tammy Morisen would kill you unless you found somebody to protect you."

"I wouldn't let anybody do anything like that to me," she said defiantly.

"You think I wanted to let anything happen to me?  You wouldn't have a choice.  You can't fight against a whole bunch of people.  You'd just get killed."

"I'd rather die."

"Then you would die.  Either Tammy or somebody else would kill you for not cooperating or you might be able to find a knife and do yourself in, unless the guards found out and put you on suicide watch.  And that's no picnic either."

"Why?"

"They locked me to the bed and put a guard next to me, then they drugged me.  I spent most of my time so doped up I couldn't even move.  One guard was nice, he talked to me for a while and told me I was gonna be OK.  The rest of them either treated me like a piece of furniture or swore at me and told me I was worthless."  Serena swallowed hard.

"That's what prison is like.  People trying to hurt you.  Guards telling you you're nothing.  You're locked up most of them time.  You have to get permission to do everything.  Remember when you came to see me in Sing Sing?"

"Yeah."

"How would you like to be like that?  Handcuffed and locked to a chain?  How would you like to be treated like you're nothing?  How would you like to have Tammy telling you she's gonna hurt you and there's nothing you can do about it?"

She hesitantly touched one of the stitches and he twitched involuntarily, then held very still.

"Daddy, I'm sorry," she whispered.

He hugged her close.  "This was not your fault.  Do you understand that?  It's not your fault."

"But you went because of me."

"I went because you're my daughter and I love you.  That's what a father's supposed to do.  If I had to go back in time, I would do it again." He tilted her chin up, meeting her eyes seriously.  "I'm not telling you any of this to make you feel guilty.  I'm telling you so that you don't ever get yourself in a position like that."

Serena held his gaze, then hesitantly asked, "Did - for real, did you try to kill yourself?"

"No."

"Did you want to?"

Yes.  The last day he'd wished he could and he would have if he hadn't been restrained and watched.  But she didn't need to know that.  He tried to think of what to say.  "Sweetie... you don't know what it was like in there.  And I don't want you to ever find out."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't blame you.  I only told you because of what you said about helping out."  He paused, holding her tight.  "Please, I know this is a lot to ask, but please don't talk to your sisters or anybody else about this, OK?  If you need to talk, come talk to me or Mom or Father Morelli.  There's no need to scare your sisters.  I didn't want any of you to know about this, but it scares me too much that you might do something that'll get you into a place like that."

"OK."

He let her go and she left the bedroom, shaken.  He put his head in his hands.  Damn it.  Damn it, damn it.  He'd scared the hell out of her.  No child should have to see those cuts, hear what had caused them.  He should be shielding her from things like that, not rubbing her face in them.  But he didn't know how else to prevent her from making decisions that would land her in the exact same place.  Better to hear a horrible story than live it.

===

_Saturday, January 24  
1:03am_

_No, no, please, no, he wants to scream but his voice is barely a whisper.  Struggling with all his strength but barely moving.  Rico's friends holding him down so tightly it hurts._

_Fuck!  He's awake - put him down again_

_Relax, it's gonna be OK_

_Rico's friends holding him down, Rico's voice, Relax, baby, I'm gonna enjoy this, No, no - stop!  STOP!!  he hears himself gasp in pain, no, no, please no, he can't get away, bright lights, so many eyes watching, faces grinning, it's just a show to them, pain so agonizing he'd rather die than endure it one more second, No, stop, get off of me, stop touching me, stop, God please, stop him, please make him stop, God, please_

_You almost done?_

_Mother Mary, please, make him stop, no, stop, stop, no, so much blood everywhere, wrists gushing red, droplets of blood across Rico's cheek, his life draining out of him, blood in his eyes-_

_Wouldja put him down, please, before he hurts himself?_

_No, please no, please stop, please Almighty God, help me, make him stop, make him stop, make him stop_

Deborah woke up.  She blinked a couple of times, trying to figure out why she was awake.

"Stop... please, no..." she heard Rey's voice.  Rey lay on his side, asleep, brow furrowed, head moving back and forth on the pillow.

"Rey?"

"No - please, don't.  Please..." he whispered.

Deborah shivered.  Whatever Rey was dreaming about, it had to stop.  But she was a little scared to wake him up.

"Rey!"  She reached out and shook his shoulder and he flinched, drawing away.

"Deborah - please help me," he whispered.  He hugged himself tightly, shaking.

"Rey, wake up!!  Rey!" she shook him, hard, and he finally woke up, scrambling away from her as if her touch burned him.  Then he got up without a word and left the apartment.  Again.

She sighed, wishing he could talk to her, talk to somebody.  Anybody.  Hopefully things would improve once he was able to see the shrink.  Unfortunately, he was on a waiting list a mile long.  And the pressure from the nightmares and the suspension and their financial situation were really taking their toll.

Outside, Rey ran, taking comfort in the physical exercise, in the fact that he wasn't confined any more.  In Sing Sing, there had been nowhere to run.  Now he could at least get away.

He finally stopped, winded, and found a park to rest in before heading back home.  He looked up at the sky - nice night.  Clear, almost full moon.  The city was still active, even late at night.

Shit, that had been a pretty bad one.  His nightmares were pretty horrific most of the time, since they tended to be jumbles of images and emotions from those six days in Sing Sing, but he really hated the ones where he didn't get away from Rico.  Like what happened wasn't bad enough, he'd dreamed a few times that the guard didn't come in time to save him.  And then everything became a jumble of nightmarish pain and his wrists were bleeding again.  He absently scratched at a cut.

He breathed in deeply.  There wasn't much he could do about the nightmares.  But he could at least do something about some of the pressure he was under.  He resolved to see Father Morelli the next day.

===

_Saturday, January 24  
11:09am_

"Father, you know that offer of financial aid from the Church?"

"Yes?"

"Now would be a really good time."

"Of course. How much do you need?"

"We... we can't make rent this month.  We're already a month behind.  The landlady said she'll evict us at the end of the month if we don't pay up for last and this month.  We're good for it, I've been reinstated, but the Department pays one month behind, so..."

"All right, no problem, let's just pay it all off and you'll pay us back later.  I'll get Sister Ellen at the convent to go over your finances if you want, she can probably work out something.  She's very good at finding ways around bureaucratic idiocy.  Maybe Deborah can get disability for the month you weren't paid."

"Thanks, Father," Rey let out his breath in relief.  It rankled to have to rely on charity like this, but he'd had to swallow his pride about far worse.  He rubbed his forehead, feeling a bit of his tension subsiding.  OK.  No eviction, at least not this month.  He cleared his throat, feeling uncomfortable around Father Morelli now that they were done talking about his finances.  He hadn't had a chance to talk to Morelli since he'd gotten out, since Morelli had been on some kind of retreat, and he really didn't know what to say to him.

"How are you doing, Rey?" Morelli asked hesitantly.  Rey shrugged and looked away.

"OK," he lied and changed the subject.  "How are you doing, Father?"

"Good, thanks."

"What did your superiors say about you revealing my mother's confession to the judge?"

"Everything's fine.  I spent some time explaining the situation to them.  I've been asked to resign my post as senior priest here, which I think is only fair."

"I meant what I said, Father.  I'll speak on your behalf if you want me to."

"Thanks.  I don't think it'll be necessary."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."  They both stared at the floor for a moment, then Morelli said, "Rey, I have to get back to-"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Father, I didn't mean to take up your time-"

"No, no, it's OK.  I'll send Sister Ellen over tomorrow.  We'll work something out."

Morelli watched Rey leave and leaned against the door, brooding.  He hadn't told Rey - he hadn't told anybody - but he hadn't been at a retreat.  He'd been at the Archdiocese, catching Hell, to use a rather profane expression, for his actions during the whole Curtis family debacle.

His superiors had been upset, far more upset than he'd let Rey know, and although they had only requested that he resign his position as senior priest at St. Ignacio's, he was thinking of doing a whole lot more.  He was thinking of leaving the priesthood.  Not just because of the confession, but because of how he'd failed Rey and his mother.  Because of how he'd dealt with Rey during the last few years.

Morelli went back into his office, remembering one confession of Rey's that stood out from the last year.  One confession that he'd thought about a great deal as he'd agonized over what to do to help Rey get out of prison, and later thought about his own role in having landed him there.

It had been the last Saturday of the month, a few months before Estela Curtis' death, and Morelli had woken up hoping against hope that Rey wouldn't be there.  He found these sessions so frustrating.  Rey, a man who used to be a pillar of the community, who used to be arrogant and confident, who used to be a friend, confessing over and over again to infidelity, drug use... sad, subdued, ashamed.  It made Morelli want to shake him back into shape, slap him for being such an idiot.  It also made him unutterably sad.  He'd opened up the back door and looked out into the garden, where Rey was sitting at the picnic table, head pillowed on his crossed arms, gazing out at the flowers.  He'd come and sat down in front of Rey.  Rey didn't look at him as they sat in silence for a moment.  Finally he'd said,

"I'm sorry, Father."

Morelli sighed.  "Come inside, Rey." He suddenly decided the morning was too nice to be indoors and corrected himself.  "Actually, don't.  Let's just stay out here."  Rey slowly sat up and crossed himself.

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned.  It's been a week since my last confession."

"What happened?"

He shrugged.  Father Morelli knew what had happened.

"Rey... how can you do this to your family, time after time?  How can you betray your wife like this?"

"I'm sorry, Father."

"You took vows.  Don't they mean anything to you?"

"Yes, Father."

"What do they mean?  How can you break them over and over again?"

"I don't know."

"What's going through your head when you do this?"

"I - I don't know.  Not very much."

"Did you drink?"  That was a non-question.  Rey's pallor and unsteadiness was pretty indicative that this was a 'morning after the night before'.

"Five beers."

"Did you do drugs again?"

Heavy sigh.  "Yes, Father."

"How much?"

Shrug, eyes downcast.  "Couple joints."

"Rey.  You're a police officer.  You're supposed to uphold the law, not break it."

"I know."

"Why do you allow yourself to do this?  Were you drugging your guilt away again?"

"Yes, Father."

"Why don't you listen to your guilt instead?"

"I don't know."

"Listen to it, avoid temptation.  If something feels that bad, then you shouldn't be doing it."

Rey bowed his head.

"You need to be strong.  Stronger than this.  I know it's difficult to accept your marriage the way it is, but it's not impossible.  Enforced celibacy may not be an ideal way to live your life, but it's no excuse for your conduct."

"I know."

"If you know, why don't you do something to change your behaviour?"  Rey sighed and there was a long silence.  They had spoken so many words so many times, and none of them seemed to make any difference.  Morelli pointed out what Rey was supposed to do, Rey was penitent, promised he would try harder next time... and the next month they went through the same song and dance.  Rey had sat blankly gazing out at the garden while Morelli tried to psyche himself up to go through it all again.  Then Rey had looked up at Morelli and started to speak hesitantly.

"Father... don't you ever feel - ever feel like you need somebody to touch you?  Like you need to touch another human being?"  Morelli gazed at him impassively and Rey had chewed his lip, trying to find words to express himself.  He continued slowly.  "I... I have these dreams all the time, about Deborah, about, about being with her.  They're so vivid.  And, and then I wake up in the morning and I feel like, like I don't know what, just... devastated, because it was just a dream."  His words had stumbled to a stop as he glanced around the garden, arms crossed defensively, trying to explain something that couldn't be easily put into words.

"I - I need her, Father.  I need somebody," he said, his voice low.

"You want her," Morelli had replied gently.  "Want and need are two different things."  He sympathized with the difficulty of Rey's situation, and he felt a pang of sorrow for the pain that Rey felt, being cut off from his wife, but Rey needed to look at this objectively.  "She's still your wife, still the mother of your children.  She's still alive.  What you need is to be content with what you have and not dissatisfied because you don't have more."

"I know."

"What goes through your mind when you go to those bars?  What are you thinking when you betray your wife?"

"I'm not thinking much.  I don't let myself think," Rey had answered softly.  He tentatively offered, "But, but I feel... I feel like... sometimes I feel like I'd give anything, anything at all, to touch a woman.  To have a woman touch me."

"You need to pray."

"Father, prayer doesn't do a lot in this department."

"You aren't praying hard enough.  You need to pray to be delivered from this attachment to physical things."

Rey looked up, despairing, and for once he tried to defend himself, his dark eyes pleading for understanding.  "Father... it's once, it's once a month."  Morelli had frowned, not liking the tone of that.  Rey had looked away from his silent disapproval.  "I, I know it's wrong, but... but it's once a month that I get to feel like a regular person and not go crazy wishing for something I can't have.  I - I don't tell Deborah about it, I take care of her and I don't let myself get attached to any woman who might tempt me to leave her, and, and I know that's wrong too," he said quickly before Morelli could berate him for it, "I shouldn't use a woman like that, but, but..." he'd drawn in a shaking breath, words coming more quickly as he tried to express himself.  "God, I can't, I can't live my whole life never being touched.  I can't.  Some days I crave it so much it's like, like... like I feel like I'm starving," he'd paused, trembling, his voice unsteady, and tried to retain his composure.  "I don't know how you do it, but it drives me crazy.  I feel like I'm dying."

"You're not.  Nobody ever died of celibacy."

He shook his head.  That wasn't what he meant.  "You, you chose to be celibate, I didn't.  I, I married Deborah, for god's sake, I mean, she was, she was - she made me feel like, like... I need that back, I don't, I can't live without ever feeling that again.  I _can't_."

"Yes you can.  Stop being dramatic.  People live without sex."

He shook his head and persisted doggedly.  "It's not just sex, it's, it's - I, I can get relief any time, it's not just that, it's, it's being close to another person, it's feeling close to somebody...anybody..." he spread his hands, helpless to explain but trying.  "It's, it's having somebody want me, need me, I mean, Deborah, she, she doesn't - I don't even exist for her that way any more, I, I-"

"You're making excuses.  You're justifying your sin," Morelli said sternly.

"No, no I'm not - I'm not saying it's justified, I-"

"Yes, you are."

"No, I... I'm not, I know it's wrong, it's not an excuse, Father, it's..."

"That's what it sounds like to me.  Like you're trying to say that because you want to sin, that makes it all right."

Rey had accepted the rebuke but tried one last time, his eyes pleading.  "No, no, I... Father, I don't... I don't have anything else to look forward to.  I don't have anything else in my life that... that feels good.  I-"

"It feels good to betray your family?"

"No, no, that's not what-"

"You don't have anything else in your life?  What about the four children that God gave to you, they don't mean anything to you?"

Silence.  The light in Rey's eyes died as he gave in and stopped trying to explain himself, just accepted Morelli's judgment.

"Well?"

Rey had bowed his head in defeat.  "I'm sorry, Father."

"It doesn't matter whether Deborah knows or not.  It doesn't matter that you only do this once a month.  It's wrong.  It's betrayal and sin.  Deborah deserves better than this from you."

"I know," he'd whispered.

"Your children deserve better than this from you.  You deserve better than this from yourself."

Rey had put his head in his hands.

He had continued to harangue Rey, pointing out all the ways in which Rey could have avoided sinning the night before, all the ways in which he had failed.  His wife, his children, himself, the Church, and God.  Rey had taken it, silently, his brief attempt at communication, at reaching out for help and understanding, crushed under the weight of guilt that Morelli had piled on him mercilessly.

"You need to acknowledge your sin, not try to explain it away.  Acknowledge the gravity of your sin, admit that you are a sinner, that you have failed.  Admit your unworthiness, humbly beg God to forgive you and cleanse you of your sin."

"Again," Rey had pointed out hopelessly.

"Again," Morelli had agreed.  "Bare your soul to God.  Ask Him for help."

"Father... I feel like I can't even do that any more.  Forgiveness requires that you resolve you won't sin again.  I know I'm not strong enough not to.  How can God forgive that?"

"God can forgive anything, you know that, as long as you sincerely repent."

"I... I do."  Rey had sighed and hidden his face in his hands.  "I do repent.  I feel guilt, I feel, I feel like I'm less than nothing after one of these nights, I just, I just don't see how God can remove that."

"Then you're not letting go.  Do your penance, resolve to not sin again, and God will take your sin from you.  He accepts you, no matter what you've done."

"How can He?" Rey had asked, his voice muffled.

Morelli had placed a hand on Rey's shoulder, sighing.  "Rey, I can't explain it either.  I know I don't feel terribly charitable towards you, and you probably don't feel much sympathy for yourself either, but we're human.  God is better than both of us."  He'd paused for a moment, and added gently, "You are still a child of God.  Your sins hurt Him, but He still loves you as much as He ever has.  Trust Him.  God is still with you.  He hasn't forsaken you, and He never will."

He had allowed Rey time to regain his composure, sensing that Rey was near tears.  Rey had kept his hands over his face, his breathing slowly calming as he brought himself back from the edge.  When he felt Rey had himself sufficiently under control again, he had said gently, "You need to make an Act of Contrition."  Rey had sighed, crossed himself, and said the words he'd said so many times before, his voice low and resigned.  The beginning of yet another long period of prayer, Hail Mary's, Our Father's, self-recrimination, that always left him penitent but no more able to resist temptation than before.

"O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins because of Thy just punishments, but most of all," his voice had caught and he'd paused for a moment before continuing, "Most of all because they offend Thee, my God, Who art all-good and deserving of all my love.  I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to sin no more and to avoid the near occasions of sin."

Now Morelli remembered that conversation and felt overwhelming remorse.  Rey had tried so hard to reach him, had needed somebody to listen to him so much... and he'd punished him for it.  Punished him for daring to try to explain his pain, for daring to hope for anything other than condemnation from him.  Morelli had known that Rey was isolated and overburdened, but had refused to let himself see just how desperate his situation was, how cut off he was from everything and everyone.  Refused to let himself see that Rey had nowhere else to turn, that there was nobody else who could help Rey - just him.

Instead of helping, he'd hurt.  He'd hurt someone who trusted him and needed him.  It was unforgivable.

It wasn't like he didn't have experience dealing with people who sinned repeatedly in the same way.  His parish included alcoholics, abusers, drug users, compulsive gamblers and philanderers, and somehow he was able to listen to them and comfort them as he helped them to deal with their problems.  For some reason, he'd been unable to do that for Rey.  He had failed Rey.

The prosecutor in Rey's case had said that Rey angered Morelli because he was so similar to Morelli himself.  Because if Rey could fail, so could Morelli.  Morelli wasn't sure he agreed with that particular analysis, but he did know that he had never been as harsh with other parishioners as he had been with Rey.  Instead of seeing Rey's constant infidelities as a sign of misery, as a deeply lonely man reaching out to another human being for contact, however fleeting and illicit, he'd just seen it as sin.  He'd condemned without even trying to understand.

He'd taken refuge in inflexible adherence to formula: help the sinner's guilt over his sin guide him to avoid sin the next time.  Despite a year's worth of evidence that Rey's guilt merely made him slide farther and farther down into despondency and self-hatred, without anything positive coming from it, because Rey was too exhausted and lonely to be able to cope in any other way.

He'd even been blind to the fact that Rey had fallen so far into a depression that he was thinking of ending his own life.  He'd missed that completely.  Rey's mother had seen it.  Why hadn't he?  And how could he have dismissed her concerns for him, her fear over her deteriorating health and its effect on him, to the point where she confessed that she was thinking of suicide too and he just told her to stop thinking about it?

What Estela Curtis had needed was for somebody, anybody, to help her son.  What Rey had needed was for somebody to see that he was breaking under the strain.  That he was doing his best but needed help and support, needed to not feel so alone.

He had needed Morelli to see that his conduct didn't have much to do with sin or weakness or lack of love for his wife and children.  It had to do with grief at watching his wife slowly die, despair at the distance between them and the hopelessness of their situation, and an instinctive need to feel alive.

Rey had been right.  He was dying.  His spirit was, anyway.  Not from lack of sex, but from lack of sustenance in the form of affection, companionship, hope, self-worth... anything positive.  And Morelli hadn't seen, hadn't wanted to see, had convinced himself and Rey that the only reason Rey wasn't doing well was that he didn't have enough faith.

Which now seemed like sheer lunacy.  How could working full-time, taking care of three healthy children and two invalids, with medical bills and debts piled to the sky, and marital troubles on top of everything else, be manageable with just a little prayer?

His actions had pushed Rey to the edge of suicide.  Had pushed his mother over that edge.  He had been the cause of everything that Rey and his family had had to endure since Estela's death.  He didn't deserve to have Rey forgive him, or speak for him.  He wasn't fit to wear the collar.

Unfortunately, he also felt like he couldn't leave Rey and his family now.  Not when he'd heard from Father Mejia that they weren't doing well at all.  That Deborah and Lisa were worried about Rey, that he'd been suspended from work, that he wouldn't talk to them and was becoming more and more withdrawn.

Morelli sighed.  He wanted to help, wanted to make up for his negligence, but his track record with the Curtises was abysmal.  He should probably quit before he made things even worse, if such a thing was possible.

===

_Saturday, January 24  
6:13pm_

"Daddy!  Stop scratching!"

"Shit!" Rey said under his breath, clenching his fists and trying not to, but he couldn't help it, he started to rub the right wrist against his knee.

"Stop it!"

"I can't," he muttered.  God, this itched so much.  He went to the sink, started running cold water and put his hands under the tap, and breathed a little easier.  He peered more closely at the water, running a little pink.  Damn it.  Another pulled stitch.

"Olivia, can you get me the first aid kit please?"

"Sure, Daddy."

She brought it to him and he started to try to deal with the small wound with his left hand.  She stopped him.  "Here.  Keep your left hand under the tap, I'll get it."

"Thanks."

She took his right hand and peered at the wound, then quickly and efficiently got alcohol and dabbed at the bloody spot.  He gasped and his hand twitched with no prompting from him, and Olivia held on tighter, examining to make sure no other stitches had come out.  It felt very strange, having his daughter bandaging his wrist, unemotionally checking the stitches and seeing where he'd scratched the skin around them raw, clucking at him in disapproval.  Man, that was an ugly wound.  He'd had stitches on his hand before, years ago, when he was wounded by a crazy knife-wielding girl, and didn't remember it looking so awful or itching so much, or taking so damn long to heal.  She put a dressing on it and wrapped it, then taped the bandage.

"Daddy... what happened to your wrists?" she asked softly as she finished taping.  He shook his head.  She cleared her throat and fidgeted for a moment, then blurted out, "People cut their wrists when they're trying to commit suicide."

"That's not what happened.  Nothing happened," he tried to head her off.  Here was yet another conversation he didn't want to be having in this damned house.

"It's not nothing!  You've got all these cuts and nightmares and it scares the hell out of me!  And Serena and Isabel too!" he realized that she was close to tears.  He rubbed his forehead, wishing he could reassure her, but knowing he really couldn't.

"I can't, OK?  I can't talk about this.  Not to you."  He patted her gently and went into the kitchen to start making dinner.

Olivia stayed in the washroom for a while.  Dad wasn't doing well.  She'd heard Mom waking him up last night, knew he'd gone out in the middle of the night again, knew that he was having nightmares almost every night.  And there didn't seem to be anything any of them could do about it.  He wouldn't even talk to anybody.

Well, at least there was one thing she could do, and now seemed as good a time as any to do it.  She entered the kitchen and stood for a minute, watching him cook.

"Daddy, do you really think you're not a good example for us?"

"What?" he asked distractedly, stirring the soup.

"You said you woulda liked to be a good example for us," she reminded him.

"Oh yeah."

"You think you're not?"

He glanced at her.  What a question.  "Not really," he stirred some more.

"Why not?"

He shrugged.  "I've done a lotta dumb stuff, that's all."

"You're a good example for me," she said, her voice small.

He half-smiled cynically, tasted the soup and added more pepper.  "You planning on cheating on your husband when you grow up?  Doing drugs?"

"No... but... you're a good example to me.  I look up to you."

"Olivia..." he got out bowls, realizing there weren't enough for everybody.  Started to wash two more.

"What?  You are," she said, knowing that he wasn't really listening or taking her seriously.  She stepped forward and put a piece of paper on the kitchen counter, and quickly blurted out, embarrassed, "Here.  I did this for English class.  Read it." She ducked out of the kitchen.

_My Dad_

_I look up to my dad because he tries his best to take care of all of us.  My mom's sick and I know a lot of guys would have left their wife if she was sick, but he didn't.  He takes care of her and all of my sisters, including my little sister, Tania, who's very hard to take care of.  He's tired a lot of the time, and sometimes he does stuff that he shouldn't do because he's tired and upset.  But he never makes excuses for the things he's done wrong and he always tries to make things better afterwards if he can.  He's taught me a lot about honesty and faithfulness and responsibility and doing your best even when it's really hard to keep going.  So I look up to him a lot._

Rey put the paper down carefully and turned the burner off, stirring the soup until the tight feeling in his chest had subsided somewhat, then went to the girls' bedroom.

"Olivia?" he stood outside her door for a moment until she appeared, and without looking at her, gave her the paper back.  "Thanks, sweetie."

It was so inadequate, but there weren't any words for how he felt or what he wanted to say to her.  She took the paper, then held it back out to him.

"I already handed it in.  I got an A-.  Do you want to keep it?"

He looked at it for a moment.  "Yeah, I wouldn't mind."

"Keep it.  And don't forget, OK?" she touched his hand.  He nodded silently, folding it up and putting it in his back pocket.  He swallowed hard, wishing there was some way he could communicate with her, some way to give her something as precious as what she'd just given him, but he couldn't even make himself meet her eyes.  She slowly came closer and put her arms around him and he hugged her back, settling for that.

Honesty and faithfulness and responsibility.  The last things he thought he was teaching anyone.

===

_Sunday, January 25  
5:45pm_

"For god's sake, Isabel, I just mended these," Rey said wearily as he entered the apartment, carrying a load of clean laundry with a torn pair of pants sitting on top.  "Can you try to be a little more careful with your clothes please?"  Isabel mumbled an apology and Rey got out the sewing supplies.  He sat down, bit off a length of thread, threaded the needle and hunted around for the tear.  He finally found it and called back over his shoulder at Olivia in the kitchen.  "Olivia, you wanna start the water boiling for the rice, please?" he started to stitch, then blanched and stopped.  Isabel frowned in puzzlement as he abruptly put the pants down.

"Rey?" Deborah asked, alarmed.

"I - I'll be back in a minute.  Make sure Tania doesn't hurt herself with the needle."  He quickly went into the washroom and leaned on the sink, willing down nausea and breathing deeply to calm himself down.  This was ridiculous.  A simple mending job - and here he was, flashing back to the doctor's needle going in and out of his forearm, his wrists, stitching him up in the prison.  Vision blurring until all he could see was that needle going in and out as he passed out, with the smell of blood and the sharp jabbing pain and the helplessness of not being able to move away, being tied down...

Don't throw up, don't throw up.  OK, that's probably not gonna work, he realized.  He knelt down by the toilet, still trying to keep control.  OK, throw up if you have to, but at least be quiet about it.

_Needle going in and out, Mother Mary help me please, smell of blood..._

"Daddy?" oh Isabel, please, not now...

"Isabel, leave your father alone," Lisa's voice coming from far away.  Bless her.  He stayed where he was for a few more minutes until the urge to heave had passed.  OK.  That wasn't so bad.  He stood, feeling shaky but grateful that at least this was over, for now.  His face looked awful though, almost grey, eyes pitch black.

This was really getting annoying.  It was getting to the point where he felt anxious almost all the time, never knowing what perfectly innocent comment or event would send him right back to prison, mentally and emotionally.  This was ridiculous.  It was only six days.  How could six days be taking over his life like this?

He washed his face and made himself get a grip.  OK.  He was fine.  He left the washroom.

"You OK?" Lisa asked him quietly as he entered the living room again.  He nodded quickly.  "What happened?"  He shrugged and picked up the mending again, determined to not avoid harmless things just because they reminded him of prison.  Lisa approached him and sat down, exchanging glances with Deborah.

"You sure you're OK?"  Deborah asked.  He nodded impatiently, annoyed at them now.  She sighed, then said, "Oh, I meant to tell you, Jorge said he's coming to town."

Oh, damn it.  Rey closed his eyes and suppressed a groan.  He did not need his older brother's abrasive presence in his life right now.  "When?"

Lisa and Deborah smiled at his lack of enthusiasm.  "About a week," Deborah answered.  "He's got some time off from work and I guess he finally remembered he has family here."  Rey nodded.  "Rey, you haven't seen him in two years, except for your mother's funeral.  I know you two haven't been close since you were kids, but... it may be good to spend some time with him again."

Rey smiled at her skeptical tone.  "Are you convincing yourself?"

Deborah smiled back and shook her head.  She wasn't Jorge's biggest fan either, none of them were.  But he was family.  "Well, we'll just keep thinking happy thoughts while he's here and maybe we can actually get through this visit without either of you disowning him again."

===

_Sunday, January 25  
8:50pm_

Later, the basement, he folded more clothing, letting his mind wander.  Jorge was coming.  Great.  Just what he needed right now.  His brother was not the easiest person in the world to get along with, and they both strongly disapproved of each other's lifestyles.  Jorge lived a carefree bachelor's life, even though he had an ex-wife and two children.  Jorge had cheated on his wife years ago, and she'd filed for divorce and taken the kids.  He always paid his alimony and child support, grumbling all the way, but he didn't know a thing about his kids and didn't particularly seem to bemoan the loss.  Rey could never get his mind around that.

And Jorge could never get his mind around Rey's life either.  He had no idea why Rey had fought so hard to get back with his wife years ago, after their separation.  No idea why Rey stayed with Deborah even though she was increasingly disabled.  No idea why they hadn't chosen to abort Tania when Deborah got pregnant for the fourth time.  As far as Jorge was concerned, all of Rey's problems were due to his own stupid choices, and he wasn't shy about saying so.

Honesty and faithfulness and responsibility, he reminded himself.  Whether Olivia was right or not, at least he was doing things right in somebody's eyes.  And his daughter's approval meant a hell of a lot more than his brother's.  Too bad Jorge was so much more vocal with his opinions than Olivia was.

Rey tried to think positively.  They would get through Jorge's visit.  After all, they were getting through far worse.  Father Morelli and Sister Ellen had been true to their word, and everybody was breathing far easier now that at least they weren't facing eviction.  He'd spent the last week trying to convince himself that he could go back to work and do OK.  He and Serena were really getting along well, she had gone back to school, and he'd been able to help her out, talking about what to do next time somebody pissed her off.  Taking mental notes on what they talked about, reminding himself that he could use those tips too.

Now if he could just stop having nightmares and flashbacks - he headed that thought off, firmly telling himself to not think about that.  There was plenty of other stuff to think about in his life.  Sing Sing was over and done.

"Rey!  Hello!"

"Hello Mrs. Peña," Rey smiled at his elderly neighbour as she puffed into the laundry room, carrying a huge basket of laundry.

"I haven't seen you since you came back.  Did everything get sorted out with your mother, dear?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Oh good.  I'm so glad to see you all back.  Deborah's back too, is she?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Is everything all done with that, dear?"

"Yes ma'am.  The police won't be asking you about it any more," he smiled at her.

She nodded to him and went to put her clothes in the washing machine and check on some clothing in one of the dryers.  He continued to fold piles of clothing, absently pushing up his sleeves, getting into a rhythm, thinking about grocery shopping tomorrow.  Suddenly he heard Mrs. Peña gasp, and he glanced up at her.  She was staring at his arms in horror, and quickly turned away as soon as she realized she was staring.  His face burned as he hastily pulled his sleeves down.  Damn it.

_Everybody's gonna be able to see it.  Your friends, your_ wife_, the lady at the cash register at the grocery store._

Damn it.  Even when he was able to forget, other people wouldn't let him.  He was marked.  For life.  God damn it.

No.  Come on.  It was just six days.  He could get over this.  He could get over it, and he damn well would.  Somehow.

===

_Monday, January 26  
2:34am_

_You fight me and you're gonna wish you were dead before I'm done with you... Oh, I'm gonna enjoy this... You better relax, baby, or this is gonna hurt a lot... Hold him down!_

_You almost done?_

_Let's make friends..._

_Jesus!  GUARD!!_

_Bleeder!  Bad one!!_

_Wouldja put him down, please, before he hurts himself?_

_Cutter!_

Woke up, Deborah crying and Lisa shaking him awake, yelling "Get out!!" at the girls.  He automatically pushed Lisa away, violently slapping at her hands where they were touching him, burning him, and hearing her voice cry out in unexpected pain.  He sat back on the bed, shaking, head buried in his arms, knees drawn up, realizing there was nowhere to go - Deborah and Lisa were in this room, the girls were in the hallway, he was being smothered by their concern and love and fear.  And all he wanted was a night away from these memories.

Lisa was still sitting on the edge of the bed.  "Nalo.  You can't go on like this."

"No.  No, I can't," he admitted quietly, head still buried in his arms, heart racing.

"You have to deal with this."

"Deal how?  If you have an idea that'll make this go away, let me know, please," he managed to say, trying to calm his breathing, trying to will his heart to slow down.

"Talk to us.  Stop running away from us!"

All of a sudden he was furious, all the shaking fear and suppressed rage inside him threatening to boil out and he was going to kill his sister, if he'd still owned a gun he would've shot every busybody interfering female in this house who crowded and smothered and pushed at him.  He raised his head and glared at Lisa.

"You want me to share?  You wanna know what's going on in my head?"  The rage came pouring out, though his voice stayed quiet.  "Fine!  I keep hearing that man's voice.  I can feel him grabbing me.  I can feel the knife he put to my throat, and I can hear the voices of the men who cheered him on, and I can feel him cutting my arm open and see my blood pouring out.  I can hear him telling me I was gonna wish I was dead before he was done with me.  I can feel him stick his fucking tongue in my mouth and I can feel those other men holding me down and him lying on top of me and undoing his pants and trying to undo mine." Lisa paled and started to stand up and he grabbed her arm.  Be careful what you ask for, he thought, you just might get it.  "I can still feel him doing _all_ of that, I see it and I hear it and I _feel_ it and you don't wanna be in my head while that's going on!!"

She wanted to know?  He was supposed to tell?  "I had to cut my own wrists to get away.  I had to take a deep breath and slice one open and do the other one before the pain hit from the first one," he realized he'd just mimed the cutting movements he'd made that night, but didn't pause, "and I couldn't see because my own blood was in my eyes, and I remember that every single god damn night, and _that's_ what's waiting for me when I go to sleep," he nodded grimly at her horrified expression.  Yeah, talk to us, she'd said.  "Being tied down while they stitched me up, panicking and thinking I was gonna die and not being able to move or see anything because my own blood was blinding me, from cuts that I made.  _Begging_ Almighty God and Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary to make it stop, only they were taking a fucking coffee break, as usual," Lisa winced and he heard Deborah sobbing and his rage boiled over as his voice got louder.  "Is that what you wanted to hear?!  I've shared, now, is EVERYTHING GONNA BE OK?!" he shoved her away and stood up, going to the closet and grabbing a pair of pants.  He put them on quickly, then opened the door and pushed past his three older daughters on his way out, grabbing his jacket and running shoes and slamming the door behind him.

He quickly put on his outdoor clothes, not letting himself speculate on how much of what he had said was overheard by his daughters.

Lisa was right.  He couldn't go on like this.


	3. Sibling Rivalry

**CHAPTER 3: SIBLING RIVALRY**

_Monday, January 26  
10:30 pm_

"You didn't tell me about any of that," Deborah said the next night as they lay together in bed.  She had snuggled up to him and he held her, feeling slightly tense but also comforted by the warmth of her in his arms.

"Any of what?"

"What you said to Lisa yesterday.  I didn't know how close that man came to... I didn't know that he kissed you."

"Yeah, well," he gently let go of her and turned his face away, cheeks burning.  "I wouldn't call it a kiss, Deborah.  Any more than I'd call rape making love.  I don't know what I'd call it."

"Is that why you don't kiss me any more?  Because you're afraid you'll be reminded of what happened?"

He turned on his side, facing her.  Reached out and took her hand in his, fingers playing together.

"Deborah... I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For... for what I put you through when you didn't want to have sex and I did."

"You feeling the same way I felt?"

"Yeah, we're even now.  I don't want to, I really, really don't," he admitted.  "At the prison, they talked about sex all the time and it really killed it for me, you know?  It just seems pretty... disgusting.  I think I'm... permanently turned off or something, I dunno," he shrugged, a bit embarrassed.

"That won't last forever."

"That's a little hard to believe right now."

"I used to work at a-"

"Rape crisis centre, I know." He sighed and dropped her hand, turning onto his back and looking up at the ceiling.  "Hon... that doesn't help much, you saying that.  I'm not one of your cases from when you worked there."

"I don't see you as a case."

"It feels like you do."

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged.  "Probably has more to do with how I feel than anything you're doing."  He stared at the ceiling for a while.  "And why I don't want to kiss you... I don't wanna get turned on.  I just want - I just wanna not think about it."

She reached out and took his hand, and he started slightly at her touch, calming instantly as he looked down at her hand.  He squeezed her fingers lightly.

"Can you please remember to not touch me without a warning?" he asked her quietly.  She nodded contritely.  She reached out to trace her finger along his cheek, making sure he could see what she was doing, and caressed the roughness of stubble along his jaw.

"You gonna let it grow?" she asked.

"I dunno.  Would you mind?"

"No, after it gets past the stubble stage it's nice," she smiled.  "How come though?  You haven't had a beard since college."  He shrugged, not particularly wanting to talk about the crawling discomfort he felt these days putting a sharp blade near his skin.  "Can I hold on to you for a while?" she asked, looking down.

He breathed out in frustration.  "You don't have to ask permission, just don't startle me."

"OK."  She drew closer to him, putting her arms around him and resting her head on his shoulder, sighing in contentment as his arms went around her.  "Mmm, I've missed this."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I just... I feel so safe when you're holding me," she said drowsily.  "It's like nothing can go wrong, you know?"  He was silent for a moment.

"Still?"

"What do you mean?"

He hesitated.  "Still, after what happened to me, you still feel that way?" he asked, his voice low.

"Of course, why wouldn't I?"  He shrugged and reached up to caress her hair, playing with it absently.  "Rey, what happened doesn't change who you are."

"It does to me," he replied after a moment.  "I couldn't keep myself safe... how could I keep you safe?"

"I'm sorry."

"Let's go to sleep, OK?" he asked, not feeling like he could deal with much more of this conversation.

===

_Sunday, February 1  
1:08 pm_

"So... my little brother, the ex-con," Jorge said that weekend at lunch.  "Mama woulda been so proud.  How long were you in, anyway?"

"Twelve days in all," Rey said quietly.  Two hours since Jorge's plane had landed, and Rey was already counting the days until he left.

"I thought it was one week."

"Six days total at Riker's, six days in Sing Sing."

"Six days in Sing Sing.  Sounds like a country western song," Jorge chuckled.  "So tell me bro, are all those prison horror stories true?"

"Yes," Rey said shortly, and got up to clear the table as the rest of the family looked down at their plates.

"What'd I say?" Jorge looked at Lisa, puzzled and annoyed.

"Jorge, why don't you just go back to Tucson," she snapped at him.  Olivia went to the kitchen, bringing Rey dishes to clean, and softly touched his arm, making sure he could see her before doing so.

"He's an asshole," she muttered.

"Watch your language, sweetie," Rey replied in a low voice, not looking at her but patting her arm to take the sting out of his words.

"What's the matter with all of you?" Jorge asked, suddenly noticing that Lisa and Deborah were looking at each other sadly and Isabel had turned her face away from him.  "Did something happen to Rey in prison?"

"Yes," Deborah said shortly.  "So how was your flight down, Jorge?"

"Fine.  What happened?  He get knifed or something?"

"Yes."

"What?!  I was joking!" Jorge said incredulously.  "Where?  Is he OK?"

"His arm."  Deborah grimaced impatiently as Jorge stared at her.  "No, you can't see it, he's wearing long sleeves.  Now let it go," she said brusquely.  Jorge glanced at his sister and his nieces, finding only closed expressions.  He shrugged and dropped it, somewhat disturbed but knowing that there was no point in digging when the family closed ranks against him.

===

"You want me to help?" Jorge asked later, as Lisa swept Rey's kitchen.  Rey had gone to put Deborah to bed for a nap and the older girls had taken Tania outside to play.

"Don't trouble yourself," Lisa muttered.  Jorge sighed, taking a swig of his beer, reflecting that if his family got any more uptight they would probably implode.  Lisa was probably angry with him for drinking at lunch.  Not that he'd had much, but both of his siblings were practically teetotalers.  He downed some more beer.

"You know what?  I think we gotta talk about Mama's estate," he began.  Now was as good a time as any.  None of them could get any more pissed off at him than they were already.

"What about it?" Lisa asked tightly.  Jorge blew out his breath in frustration.

"For Christ's sake, Lisa, he's the reason she killed herself.  Why should he be the only one to inherit?"

There was a long silence before Lisa said very slowly, "Jorge, if you ever say that to him, I will disown you."

"Come off it," he said disgustedly.

"I'm serious."

"Oh come on, Lisa, you've always taken the big sister thing a little too far with him, but this is getting ridiculous, don't you think?  I mean, for Christ's sake, he's a grown man, he's not the baby any more.  How long are you gonna do the whole 'don't touch my little brother' routine?"

"You - you go to hell."

"What?  What the hell's the matter with you?"

"He is not the reason she killed herself!"

"He told me so himself.  He said that she didn't think he could handle taking care of her on top of everybody else.  What do you call that?"

"She was upset because her mind was going and - and she had her own reasons!  It's not his fault!"

"What the hell, of all of us, he's the one who couldn't handle his life!  That's why she killed herself!"

"He's the only one of us who was going to take care of her!!" Lisa shot back furiously.  "I didn't think I could because of my stupid husband and your career was too important to you and we both just figured he could take it, even though I should have known he couldn't!  I could see him, I could see how tired he was, but I just told myself that he was still better equipped to handle her because he didn't have a damned alcoholic asshole in the house who might hurt her!  And you," she raged at him, "it didn't even cross your mind to offer!!  So both of us just let him step up even though if we'd used our heads we would've seen that there was no way he could handle one more sick person.  And we don't have any excuse.  We were just selfish.  It's not Rey's fault, it's ours!"

"What's not my fault?" Rey asked, entering the kitchen.  Lisa gave a guilty start.  Jorge looked at him speculatively for a moment.

"You and me need to talk about Mama's will."

"What about it?"

"I'm not real happy with it, you can probably guess that.  I don't think it's fair that she cut the two of us out.  And I talked to a lawyer friend of mine, he says that since she changed her will after she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, I'd have a pretty good case to get her assets frozen until we can figure out what to do with them fairly."

Lisa gaped at him in shock, and Rey swallowed hard.  He thought for a moment, knowing that his brother wasn't a monster and would never actually do what he was threatening, but also knowing that Jorge didn't have a lot of sense when he'd had a bit too much to drink and was feeling belligerent.

"You're right, it's not fair," he said quietly.  "And I'd love to tell you to take your third.  But I can't afford pride any more."  Jorge's eyebrows went up as Rey continued, "We're one step away from eviction, Jorge.  If you want me and my family out on the street, freeze the assets."

"Come on.  Don't give me that.  You're a cop.  You're not rolling in it, but it's not like you're penniless.  Where does it all go?"

Rey opened the kitchen cupboard that held the spillover medication that didn't fit in the washroom.  "Right here."

Jorge's eyebrows went up as he looked at the cabinet.  "That's for Deborah?"

"And Tania."

"Look, it's not my problem you decided to have her."

"What was he supposed to do?" Lisa asked, furious.  "Kill her?  Besides, he's never asked you for money!"

"Except now he's taking something that Mama shoulda left for all of us!!"

"He was gonna take care of Mama!  You were off in Tucson!"

"I didn't ask him to take care of her!"

"No, but you didn't offer to do it, either!"

"Jorge, we can debate this till tomorrow," Rey broke in.  "Look.  Just - please, don't freeze the assets, OK?  We really can't afford it."

"Fine.  I wasn't going to really, it just pisses me off that you're not doing the classy thing and splitting the inheritance the way it shoulda been split.  You were never this cheap before."

"I was never this broke before," Rey replied bitterly.

===

An hour later, the children were back and the visit wasn't going any better.  Jorge didn't have much patience for Tania's babble or Serena's glowering hostility towards him, and he was reacting to the subtle disapproval from the rest of the family as he usually did, by drinking a little too much.  Rey put a hand out as Jorge reached for his fourth beer.

"You think maybe you've had enough?"

"No, as a matter of fact, I don't.  I still see only one of you."

"Jorge, cut it out.  I've got kids here, they don't need to see you get plastered."

"Still the same self-righteous little punk you've always been, huh?" Jorge sneered, sick of his younger brother's sanctimonious ways.  "Sorry, hermanito, we're not all saints like you."  He chuckled.  "You must be the only ex-con in the world who'll get down on somebody just for drinking.  What, were you preaching to the other guys on the inside too, didja tell them to Just Say No?  That how come you got knifed?"

"Why I got knifed is none of your business.  And you're cut off."

"Maybe I don't wanna stop."

"Then maybe you should get outta my house."

"Fine."  Jorge put his drink down with a grimace of disgust.  He gazed over at Tania, busily stacking blocks over and over, and glanced at Rey.  "Lemme ask you something.  Did you ever even think of an abortion?  When Deborah was pregnant?"

"No."

"Not even once?"

"No."

"What if she got pregnant now?"

"Couldn't happen."

"It can always happen."

"No, it really can't," Rey replied, grimly amused.  She didn't want to, he didn't want to, and he was sterile anyway.  You really couldn't get any safer than that.

"I don't want you begging for handouts if you and Deborah play Vatican Roulette again."

"Jorge!" Lisa snapped.  Jorge ignored her.

"What would you do if she did get pregnant?"

"Look for a star in the East, 'cause it would be a miracle."

"Would she have an abortion?"

"No."

"That would break you financially."  Rey nodded.  "So what would you do?  Just go bankrupt?"

"Honestly?" Rey regarded Jorge for a moment.  "We'd put the child up for adoption."

"You're kidding."

"No, I'm not.  We talked about it after Tania was born.  We knew we couldn't handle another child."

"Why didn't you with Tania?"

"We thought we could handle her."

"You couldn't."

"No, not without a lotta help."

"So why don't you put her in a home or something?"

Rey and Lisa stared at him, appalled.  "Jesus, Jorge," Rey managed to say after a moment.

"I'm not saying dump her in the river, for Chrissakes.  There's some good homes for kids like that.  I mean, I know you love her, but she's never gonna amount to much, bro."

"Drop it.  Really, drop it.  And don't you ever say anything like that around Deborah," Rey left the room before he said something to his brother that he would really regret.  He joined Tania on the living room floor, smiling at her squeal of delight as he sat down.

"BLOCK!!" she shouted happily.

"Yes, blocks," he steadied them as she awkwardly tried to add another to the stack.

"BOOM!!" she knocked them down gleefully and threw her arms around him.  He hugged her back.  Such a simple thing, making a stack and knocking it down with somebody she loved by her side, and it thrilled her to bits.  He stroked her hair gently.

'She's never gonna amount to much.'  What a way to dismiss a child.  What a way to dismiss a gift from God, wanted or not, brain damaged or not.  How could Jorge be so cavalier about children?

Tania let go of him and went back to her blocks, and he looked over at Serena and Isabel, who were staying in the living room and out of Jorge's way.  Caught them cutting off a whispered conversation with a guilty look that immediately pinged his parent-radar.

"What?" They looked at each other.  He beckoned them closer and they approached slowly.  "What were you talking about?"  Isabel shook her head quickly, but Serena cleared her throat.

"We... we were just thinking that... that Uncle Jorge's not being real nice," she said reluctantly.  Rey waited for her to continue.  "And... we just thought that maybe... maybe he deserved to have something not so nice happen to him.  Maybe then he'd go away."  Rey's eyebrows went up.  "Nothing bad, just... you know, like so he won't wanna come back."

"Like what?"

"Uh... well, you know he put his jacket in the closet, and... and, I mean, we could say Tania did it, and..."

"Did what?"

"We got some finger paint, see, and-" Serena saw the look of alarm on his face and backtracked immediately, "Oh, we didn't do nothing yet, Daddy, we were just gonna sorta... smear it on his jacket, you know, like Tania did it..." she trailed off at the indecipherable expression on Rey's face.

Rey suddenly discovered a pressing need to look down and fake a coughing fit or risk having his daughters think he approved.  The disciplinarian in him was horrified.  The part of him that was pissed off at Jorge was rather disappointed that he'd caught his daughters before they did anything, and the part of him that was still the younger brother got a vivid image of what his older brother's face would look like if his ridiculously expensive jacket was ruined with finger paint and found it absolutely hilarious.

"Dad?  You OK?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah," he continued to look down until he could wipe the smile off his face.  He cleared his throat.  "Girls, that would be a very, very bad idea."

"Well, he wouldn't wanna come back, would he?"

"No, he wouldn't," Rey had to cough again and compose himself before continuing.  "But... Brook's Brothers?  That's like a $600 jacket," he trailed off, covering his mouth again.  Serena and Isabel stared at him seriously, and he did his best to keep his expression stern, but knew he wasn't doing a very good job when Serena started to smile.

"Can you picture his face if-"

"Yeah, I can," he cut her off.  "And I mean it, I do not want you to do anything like that.  We'd have to pay for it.  No, that wouldn't be funny, would it?" he said ruefully at her look of dismay.

"OK... we won't."

"Promise?"

"Promise."  They both nodded earnestly.  He glanced back at the kitchen, where his older siblings were speaking in quiet tones, and suddenly wished he were ten years old again and could throw caution to the wind to get back at his older brother for being a jerk.

"How come he's gotta be here?" Isabel asked rebelliously.

"Sweetheart... we don't always get along with family, but we gotta try.  And he's not so bad."  Serena gave a derisive snort and he grinned at her, aware that he wasn't sounding very convincing to himself either.

"Did you ever get along with him?"

"Oh yeah, when we were growing up we were good buddies."

"How come he's such an ass- such a dummy now?" Serena asked.

"People change, sweetie," Rey sighed.

===

_Monday, February 2  
10:49 pm_

"Did you call Jorge at the hotel today?" Deborah asked the next night as they got ready to go to sleep.

"No, he's catching up with some old buddies of his.  Says he'll probably come by for dinner tomorrow," Rey replied, thinking that if his brother didn't drop by the next day he'd be perfectly happy.  He drew close to Deborah, noticing that things were a little less tense between them since they'd talked a few days ago.  They held each other in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

"Jamie called me at work today."

"Yeah?"

"She wants me to get together with her and Jack tomorrow at lunch, talk about... about making a statement."

"That might be a good idea," Deborah said neutrally.  Rey sighed.  "You don't agree."

"No, not really."

"Could you do something for me?"  He nodded.  "Could - could you give them a chance to talk to you?"  They gazed at each other for a moment until he nodded reluctantly.  She smiled at him, caressing his cheek tenderly.  Then slowly, giving him time to move away, she drew closer.

He drew in his breath as she touched her lips to his.  He responded, feeling warmth and comfort in the kiss, but tensing a bit, hoping to not flashback.  Then he was just feeling Deborah's nearness and he started to relax, realizing that this was far too different from what happened in prison to set off any unpleasant reaction or memory.  This was gentle, loving, this was his wife, whose scent and taste and feel he knew intimately.  He kissed her back, hesitantly parting his lips and feeling her part her own, shyly exploring her lips with his, her tongue with his.

This was so different from his nightmares.  He caressed her face, her neck, kissing her, feeling knife-edged tension dissolving slowly, until it was almost gone. What a relief.  He still felt nervous, a low-grade anxiety that didn't seem to go away these days no matter what, but not as sharply.  She reached up carefully to touch his face, and he guided her hand, steadying her inevitable tremors.  She slowly drew closer, motioning him closer as well, until their bodies were touching.

All of her, all of her body against his, her hands slowly starting to caress him. Up his arms, on his chest, he was breathing more easily now.  He slid his hands over her shoulders, feeling her soft skin.  They kissed and caressed for a few minutes, and he was starting to feel a lot more comfortable with all of it, almost normal, until she nibbled her way to his ear and he felt a rush of desire.  Suddenly he was pushing her back, thrusting himself away from her, hearing her soft cry of protest.  He covered his face with his hands for a second, keeping the panic at bay, then caught her hand, keeping his eyes closed, unable to look at her.

"I'm sorry.  No, no, you didn't, you didn't do anything wrong, I'm just - I just..." he was tongue-tied.  How to even explain this?  None of it made any sense.  There was no way she was any kind of threat to him, he didn't feel any kind of danger from her, it was more like... like he didn't want to feel anything within himself.

"I - I can't... let's, let's just stop, OK?  Let's just go to sleep."

She slowly put her hand out, making sure he could see what she was doing, and touched his face gently, nodding.  He finally met her eyes and sighed, and after a moment he took back into his arms.

===

_Wednesday, February 4  
12:36 pm_

"It wouldn't even go to trial, Rey," Jamie said the next day at lunch.  "With the statements we got from these three other inmates, the case against Gonzalez would just get pled out.  He'd have no reason to fight it.  You wouldn't have to do much, just give a statement."  Rey's expression remained closed.  "One of them gave us some information you could use to press charges against the head guard too."

"What information?"

"She said that-"

"She?  Dawn?" Rey guessed.

"Martin Chang.  She's a transsexual, she was in the same block as you."

Rey nodded.  "That's probably Dawn."

"Anyway, she said that Gonzalez paid the head guard, Phil Johnson, $20 to look the other way for twenty minutes."

Rey looked away, feeling sick.

"You were sold for $20, Rey."  Rey had made it quite clear to Jamie and Jack that he was willing to hear them out, but that he would probably not press charges.  So far nothing they had said had changed his mind, and as Jamie got more and more frustrated, she was becoming less and less tactful.

"Hey, that's not so bad," he said hollowly, trying to distance himself from her words.  "I mean, that's a buck a minute, right?  Just like one of those long-distance plans, a buck a minute."

"Or another way to look at it is that with four men, you were sold for $5 each," she countered bluntly.

"Jamie," Jack said chidingly.

"Why tell me this?  What difference does it make what price I went for?"

"Does that seem right to you?" Jamie asked.

"So... what, you're hoping for what?  Nothing is gonna change what happens in there.  You aren't gonna stop this by telling a bunch of violent men with no access to women to just play nice."

"But it doesn't have to be like this.  At least we can stop the deliberate brutalization of inmates for the profit of guards."  He still seemed unmoved.  "Look, you know I have an agenda.  I've been involved in human rights work for a while now.  My firm is part of a group of firms willing to go after the prison system for human rights violations, to stop abuses of power and to compensate inmates who've been victimized by the system.  We want to make a class action civil suit against the Correctional system."

"That's very nice for you.  What does that have to do with me?"

"We'd like you to be the first plaintiff named."

"Why?  Why me?  Can't you find somebody else to do this?  Why put my name on your damn lawsuit?"

"Because you were innocent.  And you're a cop.  With somebody who's actually guilty as the first plaintiff, juries will look the other way.  With you, they'd at least have to think about it.  They'd have to see you as a person."

Rey looked unconvinced.

"What goes on in there isn't right.  You know that," she said persuasively,  "And nothing will change unless the system is hit with a financial setback.  We want to try a class action civil suit, but it's hard when there have been no criminal convictions.  Jack says that with three witnesses, there's enough here for a winnable criminal case.  If it goes well, maybe other inmates will press criminal charges too, then take part in the class action.  This could be the break my group's been looking for."  She stopped, realizing she was making no headway.  "Look, if nothing else, there could be financial compensation for pain and suffering.  It could be a great deal of money.  Similar suits have gone into the hundreds of thousands-"

"You think I wanna be paid for services rendered?" he asked quietly.  "Think it'll make it all better if I can tell myself that I was actually worth a hundred thousand dollars instead of twenty?"

An uncomfortable silence reigned until Jamie cleared her throat.  "Would you at least talk to the inmates who gave the statements?  See what they think?"

"Talk to them?" Rey stared at her as if she'd grown two heads.

"Yes.  I could set up a meeting-"

"You - you mean - a meeting - you, you want me to go back to that place and, and-" Rey stopped, putting his fork down, losing his appetite completely.  "Are - are you nuts?"  Jamie's eyebrows went up.  Rey took a sip of water, willing himself into calm.

"Look, I owe you a lot.  I know without your firm Jack never woulda been able to defend me... and I don't mean to be ungrateful, but... you don't understand what you're asking."  He abruptly realized he had to get out of the restaurant immediately, and stood up to go.  "I... I'll think about what you said.  But I'm not - I'm not walking back in there.  Ever.  You're asking too much."


	4. Sunday in the Park With Jorge

**CHAPTER 4: SUNDAY IN THE PARK WITH JORGE **

_Sunday, February 8  
2:34 pm_

"Hey, Detective, you're not gonna tell on me, are ya?" Jorge teased Rey as he lit up a joint in a fairly secluded spot in Central Park.  He'd found a patch of ground that wasn't covered in snow and now he lay back, resting on his elbows, relaxing in the last few hours before he caught his plane back to Tucson.

"I'm not a detective any more, and no, I'm not," Rey muttered, sitting down next to him and looking away, wishing he could tell his brother that what he really wanted to do was have some himself.  He knew it would provide a break from the constant low-level anxiety he'd been feeling for so long, knew it would give him at least a few hours respite from gnawing nervousness.  But he'd promised himself he wasn't going to, and he was keeping count of the days since the last time he'd had any - just like an alcoholic or a junkie.  Great.  Marijuana wasn't even supposed to be addictive, not physically, anyway, but he knew anything could become emotionally addictive if it filled a need.

And it would fill a need.  What would be the harm?  He was craving it so badly, could almost taste it, feel the burning in his lungs.  Knew that if he had just one joint he'd feel the blunting of emotions, the pleasant relaxation, the relief of not having to keep a lid on things, not having to work so hard just to stay in control, which had been getting steadily worse this week after he'd gone back to work and then had lunch with Jamie and Jack.  He'd feel that blurring of time, softening of the edges...  he shook his head, clenched his hands together to stop himself from reaching out for it.  Took a deep breath, away from the smoke, blew it out.

He'd feel all of that, all right, but he'd also feel ashamed and weak and disgusted with himself.  And he'd had enough of those feelings for this lifetime, thank you very much.  Anything he could do to avoid them was a good thing, even something as simple as resisting the pull of an easy high.

"Whatsammatter?" Jorge was asking, peering at him through the smoke.

"Nothing," Rey looked down and silently willed himself to not want this any more.  Knowing he couldn't even tell Jorge what he was feeling, since Jorge would, after he got over his shock, insist he not be an idiot and have some if he wanted it so much, and he would give in.

Late Saturday November 21, or was that early morning, Sunday, November 22.  That was the last time he'd had any, which would make it...  78 days.  Not much to be proud of, but these days he had to take what he could get.  And not screw it up.

Jorge blew out some more smoke, wishing he and Rey could talk to each other, understand each other, frustrated that they couldn't.  His whole visit had consisted of a series of clashes as their completely different life views collided against each other.  He'd decided to try to make peace with his brother one last time before leaving, but as per usual they were making no progress.  He'd taken out one little joint and there was Rey, looking like if Jorge weren't family he'd be arrested on the spot.  Jorge frowned in frustration, and reminded himself that he didn't have much time left to make amends before he left for Tucson again.

"Rey..." he extinguished the half-smoked joint and put it away.  "Look, I'm sorry we've been...  not getting along again." Rey regarded him seriously for a moment and nodded.

"Yeah, me too."

"Most of the stuff I say, it's because it bugs me to see you living your life the way you're living it, you know?  I just want you to be happy.  And you're not, man."

Rey looked away.  "I'm not real happy because I was in prison, Jorge."

"Bullshit," Jorge said bluntly, forgetting that he was supposed to be trying to make peace.  "Bullshit.  You were only in for twelve days.  You're not real happy because your life is a piece of crap and you act like you got no choice but to accept it." Jorge hesitated for a moment, then plunged on.  "I mean, first of all, Deborah - for Chrissakes, what the hell are you still doing with her?  I know she's your wife and all that, but this is no way to live.  She's got a disease, so your life is over too?  It doesn't make sense.  I mean, Lisa told me she was at a nursing home for a while.  Why didn't you just let her stay there?"

"I didn't want a divorce."

"This isn't a marriage, bro.  This is you being some kinda nurse or something.  If you wanted that, you woulda gone to nursing school.  You're just so hung up on The Church saying if you say a coupla words when you're twenty-four you gotta live with them till the day you die-"

"It wasn't just words.  I meant them.  I still do."

"Plus she's got you - she's always had you running scared.  Ever since that one time you fucked up and you were human.  It was seven - almost eight years ago, Nalo.  And she's never let you forget it."

"We got over that years ago," Rey said, thinking if only his brother knew...

"You're so afraid she's gonna take off on you that you do whatever the hell she says.  You're a man, _be_ a man.  Don't put up with her shit, bro.  You'll do anything she says, like she's your boss or something."

"Where do you get that from?"

"She wants you to move out after you had that fling, you move out.  She wants to go to counseling with a priest, you go.  She wants you to transfer outta Homicide, you transfer, she wants to have that kid, you let her.  It's like you got this big tattoo saying 'Deborah's Property' on you."

"What?!  You are so far outta touch...  most of that wasn't just her, it was what we both wanted.  And the rest...  you really don't see any difference between loving somebody and making compromises for her, same as she does for me, and being her property?"

"No, I don't.  You're hers, like she owns you or something.  Even now that she should just be grateful you're sticking around at all.  She still runs things."

"I know the difference between being property and being married," Rey said grimly, rubbing his arm where Gonzalez had sliced it open.

"It's just a matter of degree, the way I see it."

"Then you're an idiot."

"I'm an idiot?  You're stuck with a cripple for a wife and a retarded daughter and living hand to mouth in a tiny little apartment and I'm an idiot?  You're gonna spend the rest of your life taking care of them and die old before your time, and poor and tired, and _I'm_ an idiot?" He shook his head in disbelief.

"You're...  look at her.  OK?  Just for once, look at her.  Don't look at her and think of what she used to be, see her the way she is now.  She used to be a real looker, very pretty, an athlete and all that, and I could see why she had you by the balls back then.  But now...  I mean, she's in a wheelchair, Nalo.  She can't walk, can't read, can't even feed herself, you have to feed her like she's a baby.  And I did some reading up on MS and I'll bet you anything she can't even go to the washroom like a regular person, and I'll also bet you this month's rent that she can't have sex any more.  Most MS patients don't even want to any more, right?  What about her?"

"That's none of your business."

"Fine.  That's all the answer I need.  So you got a wife in a wheelchair that you gotta feed and change like a baby, you can't even have sex with her, and you're still hanging on to her.  She's still got you by the balls." Jorge lay back on his elbows, looking away.  "I mean, shit, man, it's...  it's pathetic."

"Pathetic..." Rey repeated thoughtfully.  He considered that for a moment, then abruptly came to a decision.  "Lemme tell you about pathetic, Jorge." He took a deep breath and looked out over the Park.  "You wanna know what happened the night Mama died?" He leaned back on his elbows next to his brother, gathered himself and when he started to speak, his tone was casual, like he was telling a story about something that happened to somebody else.

"All you know is I was out when she died, and that's why I was a suspect.  You wanna know where I was?" He took a deep breath.  "Lisa had Deborah and the girls, so I went out to this bar.  I met this girl, and we danced together for a bit, had a beer, and then she gave me a blow job." Jorge's eyebrows shot straight up and he gaped at Rey in astonishment.  Rey chuckled at his expression.  "Yeah, right up at the bar, she was underneath the bar and I was leaning against it, and uh, yeah, she went down on me, right there.  And then we had another dance, and then I went to her place and did her on her couch," he frowned and then corrected himself.  "Oh, no, wait, first I went down on her, then I did her.  No, I'm not kidding Jorge.  I'm not making this up," he said, laughing at Jorge's disbelieving look.

"Then we had two or three joints and some more beer, and then apparently I did her again - or she did me, whatever.  I'm saying apparently 'cause I don't actually remember this part, but I bet it was really something and we probably had a great time," he smiled ruefully.  Jorge narrowed his eyes.

"You're shitting me.  Gimme a break.  You, smoking pot?  Doing some chick on her couch?  Right!" he said in disgust, sitting up.  Rey dropped his casual tone and became deadly serious for a moment.

"Georgie, I'm seriously not making this up.  Read the court transcript - or better yet, I have the Public Lewdness charge filed away, I'll show it to you." He chuckled again at Jorge's stunned look, and nodded, continuing cheerfully.  "Yeah, honest to god, Public Lewdness, I do have a criminal record, for, let's see if I remember this right, uh..." he glanced up, trying to recall the exact wording, "'intentionally exposing the private or intimate parts of the body in a lewd manner and/or committing a lewd act in a public place,' yadda yadda yadda, Class B Misdemeanor.  Max is $500 and 3 months, but I got away with just $300, a real bargain, 'cause nobody actually saw us.  That's really something to show the grandkids, yeah?"

Jorge stared at him, disturbed.  Rey sat up too, and continued, still in the same cheerful, casual tone.

"And the pot - no, not kidding about that either.  You ever wanna get some in the city, I can hook you up.  Rosita's is the best place I know, cheap, easy, good stuff too.  Some nights you can just get high off the place itself, walk in, breathe deep, start flying.  There's a guy in my building too, in #21, but his stuff's a little dry sometimes," he wrinkled his nose, dismissing his building's dealer.  "Anyway, after that I left her place and walked it off, but I was so drunk and high I have no idea where I went.  That's why I didn't have an alibi for three hours.  That's why I was arrested."

"You're serious.  That's what you did the night Mama died?" Jorge asked cautiously, still partly convinced this was a joke.  Rey nodded.  "Holy crap, Nalo," Jorge shook his head, bewildered.  He slowly smiled, "Little brother, I had no idea you had it in you."

"Yeah, pretty good night, huh?  Oh, _and_," he added, pointing at Jorge to emphasize his point, "And, the kicker of it was, I didn't even know her name.  I knew it ended in 'ita', but I couldn't have told you for sure if it was Rita, or Anita, or hell, who knows, Frita or something.  I had to describe her and point out her building to the cops later, otherwise I woulda had no alibi at all." Jorge laughed.  Rey looked at him for a moment, then frowned and dropped the storytelling manner.

"Now _that's_ pathetic," Jorge glanced at him, losing the smile.  "That's a real human being, Jorge, somebody's daughter, and I used her like a piece of Kleenex," he said in self-disgust.  "And she used me the same way, and I let her.  I met her afterwards, at the trial as a matter of fact.  She seemed like a nice person.  But I didn't know a damn thing about her.  I got off three times in one night with her, apparently, and if it hadn't been for the trial, I woulda forgotten her just like I forgot every other woman I was with for the last year or so.  That's pathetic."

"What every other woman?" Jorge asked, confused.

"That's what I did almost every last Friday of the month."

"Naw, come on," Jorge protested.

"Yeah, Lisa would come down, take care of Deborah and the girls, and I'd go out and pick up.  Usually I'd get really drunk or high, too.  I failed a drug test at my precinct, coulda got fired for it.  The only thing different about that night was our mother died, and the thing at the bar - I never did that before.  Or since."

"Did Lisa know what you were doing?"

"Oh yeah, she knew.  So did Deborah."

"What?!"

"I didn't know she did, but yeah, she knew.  She didn't say anything.  Figured it was only fair, since she couldn't."

"Deborah let you get away with that?!"

"Yeah, once a month, for over a year.  Olivia even knew - she found some condoms in my wallet.  Didn't say anything.  Oh, I was just like Pop - new woman every month, wife and kid putting up and shutting up...  he woulda been so proud," he said bitterly.  "And it was pathetic," he said vehemently.  "I didn't know anything about them, I didn't feel anything for them, and half the time I didn't even remember them the next day." He swallowed hard and looked down.

"It's not like that with Deborah.  When I'm with her, I thank God for every moment we have, for everything we do together, and I don't forget.  When it's over, and I go to sleep next to her, it's like nothing else.  I feel peace.  I'm happy with her." He paused for a moment, twisting his wedding ring thoughtfully, briefly thinking about how long it had been since he'd wanted to be with her that way.  Well, maybe some day he'd want to, and at least in the meantime he was slowly getting used to touching her again.  He looked back up at Jorge.

"You know, it doesn't matter that it's nothing the Playboy channel would wanna film.  You see a cripple, you see half a woman - I don't see that, and it's not because I'm fooling myself.  I see that she makes me a lot happier than a dozen other women who can still walk and have sex and do all kindsa things she can't.  And I should know, 'cause I've been with enough of them.  I see that we belong together.  That's what you don't understand."

And how could he.  Jorge didn't have anybody like that in his life.  Rey realized that part of him actually felt sorry for his brother.

"I know you think my life's a piece of crap.  And I'm not too thrilled with it a lot of the time either, 'cause it's not easy.  But I'll take mine over yours any day, bro."

"You're serious."

"Yeah, I am.  You're right.  The best I can hope for is that I'll get to take care of my wife and daughter for the rest of my life and die poor and tired.  I wish it didn't have to be that way, but I'll take that over losing either one of them."

Jorge was silent for a few minutes, trying to get his mind around all of this.  "So...  you really have a criminal record?" he asked slowly, feeling more and more like an idiot for having been so out of the loop.  For over a year.  Actually, now that he thought about it, probably for a lot longer.

"Yeah," Rey sighed.  And what a damned humiliating charge.  Really something to tell the grandkids about.

"And they still let you be a cop?"

"Well, it kinda pushed the envelope - that and the drug test, and...  other stuff I've done.  I'm so seriously on probation if I sneeze in the wrong direction I'm out with no pension, no nothing.  But it's a misdemeanor, not a felony, and I'm just a desk cop now, so it's OK."

"Jesus.  I never woulda thought you had it in you."

"Pretty impressive, yeah?"

"Jesus." Jorge shook his head in bewilderment, feeling like somebody who's been shown one of those reversible drawings.  One minute it's a pair of faces, and the next it's a vase.  And you don't know quite what happened.  "So what happened?  How come - how come you're not going out any more?"

"I was only going out because things were bad between me and Deborah.  After I was arrested...  we just, we worked things out.  We're OK now."

"You really want to stay with her?  With all of them?" Rey nodded.  "Even though she's sick?"

"You don't stop loving your wife just because she gets sick, Jorge."

Jorge sat back, thinking about his sister-in-law, whom he'd always seen as a controlling bitch, dragging Rey down, ever since their separation seven years ago.  For some reason, he actually wanted to be with her.  Stayed with her, of his own free will.  And not just because he didn't know any better - to hear him tell it, he'd seen what plenty of other women had to offer and didn't want it.

He looked at his brother, rethinking what he'd been observing in his tired eyes, his withdrawn manner, his brooding introspective look.  The look of somebody who hasn't had enough sleep in a long time.  If this wasn't about being stuck in an unhappy home situation...  what was it about?  Was it actually about prison?  All his family would tell him was that Rey had been knifed, and he'd just assumed that it was something akin to a bar fight.  But...

"What the hell happened in prison, bro?" he asked abruptly.

Rey shook his head.

"Lisa and Deborah won't say anything to me about it."

"That's because they don't really know anything."

"Why won't you tell them?" Silence.  Jorge felt a prickle of apprehension.  "The guy that cut you - did he hurt you?  More than just cutting your arm?" Rey looked away.  "Rey, what did he do that's so bad you don't wanna tell your wife?" Rey shook his head again.  No.  If he told, that would make it more real.

"Rey, it's me.  You can tell me.  I'm sorry, I've been an idiot, but you can tell me what happened.  You could always talk to me when we were kids."

Rey bit his lip.  "I had to jerk him off," he heard himself tell Jorge before he realized he was going to say anything.

Jorge drew in his breath sharply, then gripped his brother's arm compassionately.  Rey sighed and put his head down and Jorge put his arm around Rey's shoulder, like he used to when they were little and Rey would tell him about getting in trouble at school.  Rey rubbed his forehead, tired of avoiding the subject.  'Make it more real' - hell, it was real.  Not talking about it hadn't made it go away.

"He...  he came and sat down next to me.  This guy, he'd...  he'd tried to...  tried to rape me the day before, knifed me...  he was just sitting right next to me, in the common area, playing cards.  And he said if I wanted to stay there and not be bothered for the rest of the day...  I had to pay a toll.  Jerk him off.  Otherwise he'd...  and I knew he could, I knew the guards wouldn't protect me...  so I did.  I tried to pretend I wasn't even there, it wasn't really happening...  but it did."

"Jesus, Nalo."

"And, and then, the next day, he...  he threatened that if I didn't lie down and let him do whatever he wanted - if, if I didn't do that voluntarily, him and three of his friends would - and, and that after they were all done with me he'd probably kill me - so I did.  He didn't do much, 'cause after about a minute I kinda panicked and tried to get away and then they threw me on the floor and, and almost...  but...  but before that, I lay down on that bed and let him..." he shook his head, unable to continue.

They were silent for a moment while Jorge tried to work his mind around this too.  God, and he'd joked about it.  Tell me, bro, are all those prison horror stories true?

"He...  he knew it would eat me up, the fact that I...  that he didn't force me.  I - I know I didn't really have a choice, he said he'd kill me otherwise.  But..."

"How'd you get away from them?"

"I didn't.  A guard showed up, thank God.  Otherwise..."

"That's what you don't wanna tell your wife?" Rey was silent.  "Why not?"

Rey withdrew a bit, sitting up and looking away.  "I love her, man.  I'm her husband, she's supposed to...  she's not supposed to pity me.  I don't want her to look at me and see...  a victim." He swallowed, paused for a moment, "See a sexual assault victim," he finished, looking down, his voice low.  Jorge winced at his younger brother's pain and squeezed Rey's shoulder comfortingly.

"Nalo..." Jorge waited until Rey met his eyes again.  "That's stupid.  That's not all you are, that's not all she'll see.  I mean...  you've - you've done stuff for her that's a lot more than most guys do for their wives."

"I know..."

"And you don't think less of her.  You just got through telling me that you don't even see her as a cripple."

"No, I don't."

"So why are you afraid she'll think less of you?  Why are you afraid she won't be able to see all of you instead of just one part?"

Rey was silent for a while.  "Because I do," he admitted.

Jorge gazed at him with compassion.  "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Rey breathed out.  "Ever since I was released...  I've felt like there's almost nothing left of me except somebody who, who let himself get used.  That's all I remember every night, that's what I keep being reminded of during the day...  I don't want her to see that."

"That's your problem though.  She won't see it that way," Jorge reassured Rey, realizing that in the last few minutes he'd had to rethink what he'd observed of Deborah's manner towards Rey as well.  Not the controlling bitch she'd always seemed to him, but somebody who loved Rey and was worried about him.  For good reason.

"I don't want...  I don't want anybody to think about what happened to me.  But...  but I've got these cuts, and I keep having flashbacks...  I worked so damn hard to get back to halfway normal after the arrest, and after six days in Sing Sing I'm right back to where I was, even worse."

"Why, how were you when you were arrested?"

"Depressed."

"Yeah, of course.  What an awful thing to have happen right after Mama's death."

"No, I mean actually clinically depressed.  Since before she died."

"What?"

"Yeah, the whole shebang, weight loss, difficulty sleeping, irritability, difficulty at work and personal relationships, on and on and on I fit just about every criteria in the DSMIV - I looked it up after I was diagnosed." Jorge gaped at him.  "I thought you knew."

"Are you kidding?  How would I know?  Lisa never says anything bad about you.  Neither did Mama.  You're the golden boy, you can do no wrong.  I'm the fuck-up in this family."

"Georgie, I don't mean to step on your toes but you're not the black sheep any more.  I think I have a better claim now."

"Jesus Christ, Nalo."  Jorge shook his head, heartsick.  His little brother, whom he admired and resented because he'd always been so perfect.  "Jesus.  No wonder Lisa and Deborah are being so over-protective.  Christ, I'm sorry.  I've been such an asshole.  I didn't know any of this."  They were silent for a moment, and Jorge asked hesitantly, "Nalo...  are you getting any help for this?"

Rey shrugged.  "I've kinda been avoiding the whole topic."

"That's working wonders, I can tell," Jorge said acerbically.  "What about that priest you and Deborah went to counseling with?  He's still around, isn't he?  You could talk to him, couldn't you?"

Rey shrugged again.  No, Father Morelli wasn't still around, not really.  He'd been away a hell of a lot, and when he wasn't away, things seemed changed.  Rey had gone to confession a few times but Morelli seemed very hesitant around him, very unsure of himself.  Neither one of them really seemed to know what to say to each other.  And he didn't know what to do about it.

Even if he wanted to talk, there really wasn't anybody else to talk to.  He hadn't had time to keep up friendships in the last few years.  And the few friends he had left, he'd leaned on too much in the last few months.  Especially Lennie.  He'd actually been avoiding Lennie lately, he realized, not wanting to keep going to him with his problems.  Not wanting to keep feeling so damn dependant.

"What about a shrink?"

Rey sighed.  "I'm on a waiting list.  I'll probably get to see somebody in a couple months."

"Months?  Shit.  That's victim's services for you, totally useless," Jorge said in disgust.

"No, it's through the NYPD."

"They don't have victim's services here?  They do in Tucson."

"I haven't pressed charges."

"What?!  Why the hell not?!"

"I wanna put it behind me, not dwell on it."

Jorge stared at him.  "Rey.  You have to.  Come on, hermanito, you gotta do this.  You can't let somebody get away with doing that to you.  You can't." Rey looked at him uncertainly.  "It's one thing to not wanna talk about it.  But...  not even pressing charges?  Just letting it all get swept under the rug?  Come on.  That's not you.  I don't care what you've gone through, how much you've changed, that's not you.  You know better."

===

_Tuesday, February 10  
6:45 pm_

"The doctor who was on that night was willing to talk to us," said Jack.  "So was the nurse.  And an orderly named Mark Stephens." Rey had finally told him that he might be willing to give a statement, but he wanted to know what other evidence they had first.  It skirted the line of proper protocol to let a witness know this much detail on the State's evidence, but considering how skittish Rey was about making a statement at all, Jack was willing to overlook the slight impropriety.

"Mark?  That's his first name?"

"Do you know him?" Jamie asked.

"Yeah.  I worked with him a couple shifts."

"The rest of the staff was less than eager.  They've been rather evasive.  But I did get your medical records," Jack took out a file.

Rey picked up the file slowly and opened it up.  He was quite familiar with medical reports from his work in Homicide.  Only difference here was that the name up top was his.

No problem.  He didn't really remember much, so it shouldn't be that bad to read through.  He started to read.  First admission, Saturday, December 27, 2003.

He read for a few minutes.  No surprises.  Twelve stitches, left forearm, patient sedated during stitching...  OK.  That wasn't so bad.

He moved to the next reports, the ones on his admission after he cut.  Patient brought in with severe bleeding from both wrists, agitated - he snorted at that, he hadn't been 'agitated', from what little he remembered he'd been completely freaked out, fighting to get away and yelling at them to let him go, totally panicked.  He'd heard quite a few curses from the guards and nurses who'd been trying to get him into the restraints.  'Had to be restrained and sedated'...  yeah, no kidding.

He read for a few more minutes, then looked up in slight surprise.  "They took blood samples?"

Jamie nodded.  "They were checking you for drug use."

"Yeah, yeah, I see that.  I just - I didn't know they did that."

"They did it after you were out.  It's standard when somebody cuts," Jack informed him.

Rey nodded.  That made sense.  He looked closer.  "There's an HIV test here too.  And Hep."

"Standard with any blood test done on an inmate."

He supposed so.  A little disturbing, but it did make sense.  He read on.  "They recorded the injuries.  I didn't think they'd bother." Arms: cuts, abrasions on hands and elbows, torn fingernail on index finger of left hand; face: bruising, cut lip, swab from the inside of his mouth-

"Oh my god," he swallowed convulsively as he abruptly realized what that meant.  He quickly flipped through the folder.  "This - this is a rape kit." Fingernail scrapings...  physical exam...  "Only thing they didn't do was the pictures."

"Apparently that's standard too.  They check for evidence of drug use and sexual assault," Jamie replied calmly.  Jack glanced at her, then back at Rey's ashen face, concerned.  Rey hadn't known a rape kit had been run on him?

"While - while I was unconscious?"

"They couldn't wait until you regained consciousness.  Any evidence might have been gone by then."

"I - I didn't consent to that.  I wouldn't have." He set the file down, feeling sick.  He'd been unconscious while people were doing things to him that he wouldn't have allowed if he'd been awake.  Medical rape.

"Rey?" Jack's voice was worried.

"I - I didn't know they did that." Rey swallowed a few more times, forcing down his emotions and looking at this logically, like a law enforcement officer.  Nobody had done anything wrong.  Not in the infirmary, anyway.  Whatever they did, it was for a good reason.  It was OK.  He wasn't conscious throughout it and he had no memory of it.  Something tugged at the back of his mind, but he firmly pushed it away and looked back at the file, quickly scanning that section of the report, ignoring his irrational outrage and sense of violation.  No evidence of sexual trauma, no traces of semen, OK, he flipped back to the external, found his place where he'd stopped reading to flip through the contents of the folder.  Bruises found on more detailed physical examination after they removed his uniform-

"Hang on," he frowned and re-read something.

"What?"

"'Bite mark, right side of the neck near the juncture of the shoulder, not through the skin-'" Rey read out loud, then broke off, "They musta confused me with another patient."

"What?"

"I wasn't bitten."

"They recorded a bite mark on your neck," Jamie said.

"They confused me with somebody else.  Another guy came in while I was there, a blond guy - they must've gotten us confused."

"I don't think so."

"On my neck?  I woulda seen it in the mirror, wouldn't I?"

"Not unless you were looking."

"Look, the, the pictures your guy took - there wasn't a bite mark, was there?"

"The bruises were a little faded.  There was one on the side of your neck, but it was hard to tell what it looked like when it was new."

"I wasn't bitten," he insisted, not knowing why it made a difference.

"Are you sure?" Jack looked at the report.

"Jack, I think I'd remember if somebody bit me."

"The state you were in?  You might not."

He touched the side of his neck thoughtfully.  No, if it had happened, it would have happened earlier in the day, before he cut and was in a 'state' for a couple days.  It would have been when Rico and his buddies - suddenly he felt the blood drain from his face.

"What?" Jack asked.  Rey looked like he was going to lose his lunch.

"Yeah, I was," he said slowly.  "I just forgot."

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah.  Fine.  No.  I think...  I'm gonna be sick." He was staring at the table in front of him with unseeing eyes, and Jack felt a growing sense of alarm.

Rey put down the file and stood up unsteadily.  "Um, I'll be back - no, don't, don't come with me, I just - I need to get some air." He left quickly, leaving Jack and Jamie looking at each other in concern.

He walked off the nausea, feeling hollow.  Sounds were muffled and the hallway seemed very long.  He remembered lying on his cellmate's bunk bed for about a minute while Rico groped him, before he snapped and pushed him off.  He'd completely forgotten that at one point Rico had bitten his neck, hard enough to bruise.  He'd been trying so hard to not think about or react to what was going on, and in so much pain from his cut forearm and damaged ribs and Rico pawing at him with no regard for his injuries, that the bite had barely registered.  And later, he could vaguely remember a sore spot on his neck, but with the pain of the ribs and the restraints and the cuts, it hadn't made much of an impression.  He'd completely buried it.

He'd been bitten.  The sick son of a bitch bit him.  And he was so traumatized that he'd forgotten it completely.  He made himself go back to the room where Jamie and Jack were waiting for him.

"Um, I'm sorry, I have to get the hell outta here."

"Are you going to be all right?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, yeah, fine.  We'll finish this some other time, OK?"

"OK."

"Um...  is there anything else in there I should know?"

"I don't know.  I don't know how much you remember."

"Just give me the highlights."

"Uh...  you asked for your wife a lot.  Seemed to be in and out of consciousness and having nightmares.  You became agitated when touched.  They kept you in restraints because you kept pulling out the IV.  They stopped giving you painkillers and sedatives the second day you were in, but you requested them many times.  There seems to have been some discussion between the doctor and nurse about whether you needed them or not."

"That's it?" Jack nodded.  "OK.  Uh, can I take the file with me?"

"Of course."

"It's not the only copy, is it?"

"No."

No point in burning it, then, Rey thought.


	5. Pressing Charges

**CHAPTER 5: PRESSING CHARGES**

_Tuesday, February 10  
10:35pm_

"Rey?  What's wrong?" Deborah asked.  Rey had been withdrawn all evening, answering in monosyllables.  After he'd put the girls to bed, he and Deborah had decided to go to bed as well.  She'd taken out a large print book, the only kind she could read these days, and he'd taken out some marking and marked for about twenty minutes before putting down his pen and staring blankly at their bedroom closet, brooding, an essay lying forgotten across his knees.  He glanced at her, startled out of his thoughts, and hesitated for a moment before answering her.

"Jack gave me my medical file from the infirmary."

"What did it say?"

"Among other things, it said I was given a blood test and they checked me for HIV and Hep.  I'm negative for both, by the way.  Good to know."

"Were you worried?"

"No, I was always careful," he replied absently.  "Still good to know I was careful enough."

Deborah frowned slightly, concerned.  Although they'd both come to terms with his affairs, it wasn't like Rey to talk about it so casually.  "What else did it say?"

"I threw up a whole bunch of times.  No big surprise there.  I got upset whenever anybody touched me.  I coulda guessed that, I'm still doing it."  Same nonchalant tone of voice.

"Rey.  What's the matter."

"You know, every time I think I'm OK with what happened, I find out there's more."

"What more?"

"Well, you know, I'm still trying to get used to the fact that I was sold for $20.  So today I find out that they not only took blood samples, they - while I was dead to the world they ran a rape kit on me.  I couldn't - I couldn't say or do anything, I didn't even know what was happening, and they had me up on the table and... and I also found out something I forgot, that the son of a bitch bit me."  Deborah pressed her lips together, not reaching out to him as she wanted to, since, despite the enforced casual tone to his voice, Rey's body language was screaming that he did not want any contact right now.

"So, so I'm thinking that I'm OK and I can live with it, and I get home and I make myself actually read the whole file, not just skim it like I did at Jack's office.  And there's one more thing."  He reached down next to the bed and picked up a file, found some kind of report in it and scanned through briefly until he hit the line he was looking for.

"Patient regained consciousness during physical examination, further sedation required." He put down the file.

"I went for $20," he said, a faint tremor creeping into his voice, suppressed rage getting past his attempt to keep a distance from what he was saying.  "A whole buncha cons watched while this sadistic piece of shit put his hands all over me and, and, and bit me, and I lay there and let him, then they watched while the four of them threw me down on the floor and almost had one helluva party with me for five bucks apiece, then I nearly bled to death, and, and then I was molested on a table in the infirmary.  And I got to wake up during that."  He stood up, too angry to continue sitting.

"And not a damn thing is gonna happen to anybody.  Rico - he's in for life anyway, and the Warden and the guards, I don't care what Jack and Jamie say, that's like fighting City Hall, and the doctor, well hey, he didn't actually do anything wrong."  He started to move towards the door.

"Rey.  Rey, please, don't go.  Come back.  Talk to me."

"I did.  I just did.  I told you what's going on in my head, I don't wanna talk about it any more, I'm going out for a run."

"That only helps for a little while."

"So what do you want me to do instead?  Tell you how all of this makes me feel?  Fine.  I feel violated.  OK?  Are we done now?"

"Rey."

"And I feel like I'd like to kill somebody.  Doesn't even matter who any more.  Rico, or the doctor, or, or any of the cons who watched and cheered, or anybody.  God damn well anybody."

"Why?"

"I remember it.  Waking up.  I've had nightmares about it."  Deborah drew in her breath, appalled, as Rey continued.  "I'd convinced myself it was just a hallucination or something.  But now I think maybe my mind put together what I was so scared was going to happen with Rico with what actually happened in the infirmary."

"What do you remember?"  He looked away from her impatiently.  "I'm sorry.  Don't say anything if you don't want to.  But please... don't go out.  OK?  Please."

She hesitantly reached out to him and he drew closer to her.  Then he gave a sigh of resignation and sat himself back on the bed, back to the wall, moving Deborah so that she was nestled against his chest.  They sat together for a few moments, Deborah feeling his heartbeat slowly steadying, and finally asked Rey quietly, "Would it help to talk about it?"

He shrugged and they were silent for a few more minutes.  Then he began, keeping his voice as dispassionate as he could.  "I remember saying no over and over again.  I couldn't move.  And I was in so much pain.  My arms hurt like hell - I think they still had me in restraints and I was trying to get away.  I thought Rico's pals were holding me down.  And I thought Rico-" he broke off and Deborah felt him swallowing hard and pausing to keep his breathing steady.  She covered his hands with hers, where they crossed over her stomach.  Rey took a deep breath and continued.  "And there was nobody helping me, nobody was listening to me, but there were a lot of people watching and touching me.  And really bright lights hurting my eyes.  And somebody told me to relax," he broke off and chuckled bitterly.  "Man, if that part really happened, was that ever the wrong thing to say to me."

"Why?"

"He said that.  You better relax, baby, or this is gonna hurt a lot."

Deborah closed her eyes in horror.  Rey had said that so emotionlessly.

"I keep hearing him say that when I have nightmares."  Rey breathed in, keeping calm.  "I thought, I thought that, being on that table, that it was just a nightmare.  But it wasn't.  And I can't even - I can't even be angry at them because they didn't do anything wrong.  How do I live with that?" he swallowed.  "With any of it?  How do I live with having let him bite me, leave a mark on my neck, and not even remember that?  How do I live with that?"

"Pray," Deborah said gently.  "God will find a way for you to get through this."

"Pray," Rey said bitterly after a moment.  "Give me a fucking break.  God's turned His back on me, He turned His back on me so goddamn long ago it's not even funny.  I prayed.  I prayed in there, you think I didn't pray?  I begged God to take me out of there by any means."  His voice broke and he stopped.  "I prayed to God to let me die that last day.  Over and over.  I wanted to die so badly."

"God doesn't always answer our prayers."

"Sometimes I wish He had," Rey admitted quietly.

"Really?"

"I thought I'd be better off dead than trying to cope with this," his voice caught again and he paused to regain his composure.  "I kept saying No.  I kept saying Please, no.  And nobody ever listened.  Nobody, not Rico, not the guards, not even God.  Even in the infirmary, all they did was put me out again and keep right on doing what they were doing."

He thought for a moment before continuing.  "And I don't even know why they bothered.  You know they took scrapings from under my fingernails?  Yeah, to match to those guys.  What's the point?  My hands were totally covered in blood, any evidence would've been washed away.  And they combed through my hair and looked through my clothes and my body, found five hairs that didn't belong to me.  They probably match Rico.  So what?"

"They bothered to do it because it was a crime.  And now you can use that for the case against them."

"I don't wanna have anything to do with the case.  Everybody keeps telling me this is the right thing to do, but... it's taking a hell of a lot of trust on my part to believe that."

===

_Monday, February 16  
6:35pm_

Three days later, Rey gave his statement to Jack and Jack filed charges against Rico Gonzalez, Phil Johnson, and Roger Gether, the Warden at Sing Sing.

Three days after that, Jack and Jamie reluctantly explained Gonzalez's defense to Rey.

"He said it was my idea?" Rey asked incredulously.

"He said that when you realized that you were in danger because he'd outed you as a former cop, you came to him for protection."

"As in... I _asked_ him to - are you serious?"

"It's a common arrangement in prison."

"I came to him for protection after he'd knifed me?"

"He said that after he recognized you, the two of you got in a fight, and he used his knife in self-defense.  Then he said you told him somebody else threatened to kill you in the infirmary after your arm was cut.  And you figured Gonzalez wouldn't kill you, otherwise he would have the day that he cut your arm."

Rey sat back, stunned.  "So he's saying it was all consensual."

"Rey... there's more."

"What?"

"He claims that you engaged in consensual sexual intercourse with him the day that you cut yourself."

_"What?!"_

"He said that he never threatened you, that the reason you cut yourself was that you couldn't live with having done that."

Rey stared at Jack, speechless.  Jack cleared his throat.

"That's why I'll need you to testify."

"Testify?  In front of a judge and jury?"

"Yes.  I thought with the evidence we had, that this would be pled out without a trial.  But with Gonzalez bringing this up as a defense-"

"No way."

"Rey-"

"No.  There is no way in hell I'm testifying.  I gave you a statement, use it."

"It'll be tossed unless they have a chance to cross."

"Cross?  You know as well as I do that sexual assault victims are raped again by the justice system when they go to trial.  You know that.  They'll attack me personally and it'll be real easy.  They'll get the jury to accept reasonable grounds without even breaking a sweat."

"He threatened you, and he hurt you.  We have pictures of your injuries."

"Sure.  And they have my sexual history to work with - my trial established me real well, in court, as a guy who's been hopping in and outta bed with strangers for over a year."

"Women, not men."

"So how hard will it be for them to say I just adapted real quick?  If it was that easy for me to break my marriage vows and sleep with strangers, how difficult would it have been for me to realize sleeping with another stranger was my ticket to safety?"

"Rey, he threatened you.  Whatever happened wasn't consensual."

"Yeah, and maybe after my name's been dragged through the mud some more you can prove that, and maybe not.  No thanks."

"In all likelihood your history won't be allowed in court anyway," Jamie pointed out.

"Right.  In all likelihood it'll be their main event," Rey shot back cynically.  "It's a loser of a case.  I'm not gonna put myself through - I'm not going on trial again for something that's totally useless."

"It's not just your word against his, we also have three witnesses-"

"Yeah, yeah, Bayliss, Jorgenson and Chang.  Three _inmate_ witnesses.  You know exactly how much credibility they'll have.  And there's not one staff person outside of the infirmary who'll testify that they saw anything at all."

"There's not one inmate or staff that's come forward to support Gonzalez's claims, or to back up Johnson either," Jack said.  "We don't know why - I got the feeling from Bayliss that there's been some internal power struggle going on over this, but we've run into a wall of silence on the details."

"And it's not just the case against Gonzalez, there's also the charges against Warden Gether and Johnson," Rey made a disgusted sound at that but Jamie persisted.  "Other inmates have won against Correctional Services who failed to protect them.  It may not be a loser of a case."

"'May not be a loser'.  Great.  And who do you want me to do this for?  A bunch of criminals?"

"Most victims inside aren't the worst offenders.  Some of them are rapists and child molesters, but most of them are just young, or the wrong race, or the wrong former job.  That patient who came in while you were in the infirmary.  I did some digging.  Do you know what he was in for?"

"I don't care what he was in for."

"He sold $532 worth of cocaine to an undercover Narcotics officer.  Is that worth what he went through, what he's probably still going through?"

"You don't want me to testify.  They'll say I consented, in the common area and in my cell, at least at first.  And I did."

"Duress vitiates consent.  You were in a public place, he threatened to take you out of it and hurt you if you didn't cooperate, you didn't have a choice-"

"Can you prove that?  You can't.  I've 'engaged in sexual activity' in a public place before.  They'll bring that up."

"With a woman.  Receiving, not giving."

"Yeah, and you want me to get up on the stand where it'll be brought up again, because _not enough_ people know that I had sex in a public place.  No way in hell."

"That kid needed seven stitches after they were done with him.  That day in your cell, how far away do you think you were from needing stitches yourself?" Jamie challenged.

"Five... maybe ten seconds," Rey estimated evenly.

"If the guard that saved you hadn't gone up to the second tier, where he wasn't supposed to be, or if he had even stopped to tie his shoelaces, you wouldn't have the luxury of trying to convince yourself nothing happened and there's no real reason to proceed."

"I know that.  It doesn't change anything."

"Rey, that kid was in the infirmary for two weeks.  He couldn't even walk.  That could have been you."

"Jamie..." Jack shook his head at her.

"You're not telling me anything I don't know.  What do you think is gonna change if I press charges?  You think it's gonna stop this from happening again?"

"Is that the only reason to press charges?" Jack asked.  "All of those times that you arrested somebody for murder, were you under the illusion that there would be no more murders after they were convicted?"  Rey looked away from him and Jack added, "Rey, forget the civil suit, forget Jamie's part in this.  Going forward in the criminal case is the right thing to do because what happened was a crime, and crimes need to be prosecuted.  It's a matter of justice."

"Justice," Rey said with disgust.  "Give me a break.  There's no justice for this."

"Look, we all know it's been difficult for you to come to terms with what happened," Jamie added gently.  "Don't you think that if you can do something about it, it might help-"

"Wait a minute, wait a minute, you're not saying I should take the stand like it's gonna be some sorta 'healing process', are you?" Rey asked in disbelief.

"I-"

"I don't believe this," Rey stood up quickly and went to the window, crossing his arms to get past his unexpected fury at Jamie Ross.  At both of them.  Waited until he could speak with a modicum of equanimity.

"Look.  He forced me to - to do things I didn't want to do.  To let him do things I didn't want him to do.  So what's happened since I got out?  You two force me to get pictures taken, my wife and sister try to force me to talk, you force me to give a statement, now you wanna force me to testify - does anybody think _maybe_ I've had enough of being forced?!" He turned to them, his anger momentarily getting the best of him.

"Fuck you!  Fuck all of you!!  At least he had the decency not to tell me it was for my own good!!" he turned his back on them again, staring out the window, breathing unevenly, forcing himself to settle down.

When Rey spoke again, his voice was low, his words slow.  "One of the reasons I cut was that I didn't think I'd be able to stand going through this.  Having a kit run on me, getting pictures, making a statement...  and it all happened anyway.  And now you're asking me to..."

"What have you told victims who didn't want to go through this before?" Jamie asked gently.

"I didn't know what the hell I was talking about."

"You're just going to forgive and forget?"

Rey sighed heavily.  No, he wouldn't.  Didn't want to forgive, couldn't seem to forget.

"Are you really just going to take this lying down?"

"That's a very nice way of putting it, Jamie, thanks," Rey said bitterly, still looking out the window.  Jamie winced at her poor choice of words but persevered.

"That young man.  His name is Neil Jasinski and he's twenty-one years old.  He had no previous criminal record and no money for a lawyer.  He's in for three years for Trafficking.  That could be your daughter in a couple of years.  It could be Serena right now if you hadn't gone to prison for her.  You went through hell to make sure she wouldn't, but everything you went through may mean nothing if she ever sells again."

===

Later, after Rey had gone home, saying he'd call them after he made up his mind, Jamie hesitantly spoke up.  "Jack... do you think any of what Gonzalez said is true?"  Jack gave her a look of disbelief.  "Not about it being Rey's idea.  But do you think there was more to what happened than Rey said?"

"No.  I don't."

"He may have lied, he may have said nothing more happened when in fact it did.  The infirmary found no sign of violent sex, but... what if Gonzalez coerced him into cooperating?"

"I was there in the infirmary.  He was too drugged to lie.  If he'd been raped, forcibly or not, he would have said so."

"He was alert enough to be able to lie to the infirmary staff about why he slit his wrists."

"I don't think he would have lied to his wife.  Besides, you read his statement.  He didn't hold anything back.  He would have told us if anything else happened."

It had been surprisingly difficult for Jack to go through the events of December 27-31 with Rey, even though Rey maintained very tight emotional control the entire time.  And later, Jamie had read Rey's statement with a deep sense of outrage and finished with an even stronger conviction that this kind of thing should never be dismissed as just 'the way things are'.

"Do you think this is the right thing?  Trying to get him to take the stand?" Jamie asked, seeking reassurance.

"I don't know.  In terms of justice, I don't want those people to get away with what they did.  But for Rey's sake I don't know.  I don't think he wants to dwell on what happened, I think he just wants to get past it."

"He's not getting past it, though."  Jack sighed.  "Jack, he's not."

===

_Monday, March 1  
7:09pm_

"OW!!" Rey bit back a curse as the knife he was using to chop vegetables sliced a knuckle.  Damn, that stung.  The cut was pretty deep, too, and bleeding rather steadily.  "I am so sick of blood," he sighed wearily.

"Then be more careful when you're using a knife," said Serena distractedly, curled up on the couch and reading a novel.

"Thank you, Serena.  I'm so glad you suggested that, it never would have occurred to me," he said a little more sarcastically than he'd meant to, squeezing his knuckle with his other hand to stop the flow.  She grinned, still reading.  That was a nice thing about Serena - she could dish it out, but she could take it too.  He put aside the vegetables he was chopping and started to head for the washroom, rubbing his eyes tiredly, not realizing there was blood on the hand rubbing his eyes.  All of a sudden he felt his heart stop.

"Serena, can you get me a wet facecloth, please?" he said when he could trust his voice not to come out in a scream.

"You mean a bandage?" Serena asked, trying to finish up her chapter before going to get whatever it was her father was asking for.

"N-no, a facecloth.  I got blood in my eyes, I can't - can't see."

Serena looked up, slightly alarmed at the tightly controlled tone of her father's voice.  He was standing near the kitchen, one hand up to his eyes, blood on the hand and on his closed eyes.  His face was ashen and his hand was shaking, and Serena's alarm grew exponentially.

"Dad?  Are you OK?"

"Just get me a fucking facecloth!" he said sharply, his control starting to crack.  Serena quickly got up and went to the washroom, returning with a wet facecloth and handing it to him.  He startled as she touched his arm, and knocked the cloth out of her hand.  She quickly picked it up, realizing he couldn't see her.

"OK, Dad, it's OK, just me, here it is, I'm putting it in your hand," she said soothingly.  He grabbed it and wiped at his eyes, opening them with relief, then scrubbed his face without looking at her.

"Thanks," he muttered, going to the washroom to tend to the wound he'd made.  Serena followed him slowly.  He didn't acknowledge her as she sat on the side of the bathtub and watched him put on a bandage, hands still shaking and breathing shallow, slowly evening out.  As he finished, she spoke up.

"What was that, Dad?"

"What?"

"How come you got freaked out by that?"

"My eyes hurt, that's all.  I-I couldn't see," he tried to dismiss her.  "Sorry about the language."

"That's not all that happened."

He leaned against the sink and met her eyes in resignation.  "Look, it's just... things keep happening that remind me of stuff that wasn't a lot of fun to go through.  I get a little upset by it, that's all."

He hated this.  The panic attacks, the tears that seemed to appear without warning, the volatility of his emotional state.  Hated the fact that he couldn't seem to keep himself on an even keel, that the slightest thing would happen and he would feel like throwing up or killing somebody or crying.  Hated having so little control that he'd broken down in front of Lennie, in front of Jack, in front of his whole family.  All of them had seen him cry like a child the night he came back home, holding on to Deborah for dear life, helpless to do anything but ride it out until the sobs died down on their own.  And now his daughter had seen him almost completely undone just because he got blood in his eyes.

"What did it remind you of?"

"Something that happened in prison," his voice was clipped, tightly controlled once more.

"Daddy... I wish you hadn't gone."

"Yeah, well, me too," he started to put the bandages and alcohol away.  "Couldn't be helped."

"Daddy..."

"Yeah?"

"How come - how come you don't wanna go on the stand?"

"What?" he turned to look at her.

"I heard Mom and Aunt Lisa talking the other day.  They were talking about how you didn't want to press charges and now you don't want to take the stand."  He blew out his breath, annoyed.  Damn small apartment.  "Why not?"

"I'm not gonna be able to explain that to you, sweetie."

"But - but what that guy did wasn't right.  Don't you think you oughtta make him pay for what he did?"

"He's in for life, Serena.  There's not much else they can do to him."

"But that's not the point.  It doesn't matter if they can do anything to him or not.  He still shouldn't be able to get away with it.  And the guards who were supposed to protect you... they shouldn't get away with it either."  He raised his eyebrows at her, surprised.  "That's what Mom and Aunt Lisa were talking about.  Because otherwise... it's like you're saying it's OK.  And it's not OK, Daddy."

===

_Tuesday, March 2  
12:34am_

_Hold him down_

_You almost done?_

_Wouldja put him down, please, before he hurts himself?_

_No please stop Jesus help me_

_Let's make friends..._

_Cutter!_

Rey woke up in a cold sweat, chest heaving, heart racing.  God, this was getting so old.  Why couldn't he wake up like a normal person?

"Rey?  You awake?" Deborah's quiet voice pierced through his racing heartbeat.

"Yeah.  Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up, hon," he muttered, turning on his side, away from her.  Hugged his arms close to his body, trying to stop the shaking.  Damn, he wondered, what woke her up this time?  What he talking in his sleep again?

"It's all right.  Are you OK?"

"Yeah," he said tiredly, and suddenly his patience and fortitude snapped.  He was not OK, he was so far from OK he couldn't even see OK from where he was.  And he was tired of trying to pretend that everything was fine.  He sat up, peeling the soaked t-shirt off.  Ugh, his side of the bed was damp with sweat too.  He turned around, faced Deborah.

"How did you know I was having a nightmare?"  Not what he wanted to say or ask, but he didn't feel like his usual route of post-nightmare coping mechanisms.  They didn't work worth a damn.

"You were shaking and having trouble breathing, and you kept saying no," Deborah replied after a startled moment.  He nodded, still sitting apart from her.  Not knowing what he wanted.  All of a sudden what he wanted most in the world was for her to hold him and make this go away.  No, he couldn't, he couldn't turn to her like that, he'd break down again and he'd had enough of that too.  He glanced at her, lying on the bed holding her hands together like she wanted to reach out to him but knew she shouldn't, and feeling himself stepping into unknown territory, he took her hands in his.

"Can you tell me what you were dreaming about?" she asked tentatively.  Vehement shake of his head, no.  That wouldn't help.  He drew closer to her, lay down beside her, and slowly moved into her arms.

Slowly, trying not to spook him, she brought her hand up to his cheek and stroked him awkwardly.  He felt his eyes fill with tears and took a deep breath to keep his composure as best he could.

"It was just six days," he whispered.  "How could six days just destroy me like this?  I'm so... sick of this."

"Rey..." she drew him closer, cradling his head against her shoulder.

"I'm sick of - of this, you know?" he wiped his eyes, making a vague gesture at his face as he did so.  "Sick of feeling this way.  Not - not being able to - to control any of it."  They lay quietly together for a moment.

"Do you ever feel suicidal any more?" she asked quietly.

"N-no, not like before," he said quickly, and she looked at him directly until he met her eyes.  "I don't.  You're here.  It was always worst at night, and now that you're here, when I feel bad I just hold on to you and that gets me through.  But I'm tired.  I wish I was back to feeling like myself again," he paused.  "Not that I even know what that's like any more."

"What do you mean?"

"I asked Lennie once how I was ever gonna get back what I had before, and he said I wouldn't.  He said I'd never feel the way I did before I got depressed, but I'd learn to feel proud of myself for getting out of the depression."

"Wise words."

"Yeah, I guess so.  I was getting there, but now..." he stopped, steadying himself.  "I'm so tired of feeling... God, I can't even explain it.  Like I can't wash this off."

"You will."

"When?" she stroked his cheek gently, unable to answer.  "I feel like... damaged goods."

"You're not.  God, Rey, you're not."

"There's a part of me that says a man, a real man, would rather die than let-" he stopped and shook his head.  "And then another part of me says that a real man wouldn't care about his pride.  He'd know that he just has to survive for the sake of his family."

"That's true."

"Which makes me less than a man from both sides, because I couldn't.  I snapped.  I tried to fight him even though I knew I didn't have a chance in hell."

"It's millenia of evolution you were trying to get past.  Your instinct to protect yourself by fighting him got past your rational mind knowing that you couldn't win.  Don't blame yourself for that."  She brushed away a tear on his cheek and he gently drew her hand away from his face.

"Deborah... I don't want your pity."

"You don't have my pity.  There's a big difference between pity and compassion, you know."

"Yeah, what's that?"

"When you pity somebody you feel sorry for them from up on high.  You know you could do better than them, you know you're better than they are.  Compassion is different.  It's 'there but for the grace of God go I', meaning the only reason you're not exactly where they are right now is God's will, absolutely nothing to do with you," she paused.  "Do you ever pity me?"

"No, of course not.  But that's different.  What's wrong with you... it's physical, you can't do anything about it."

"And you think you could do something about this?  Shrug it off?  Convince yourself nothing happened?  You think you're weak because you can't do that?"

He shrugged uncomfortably.

"I don't see you the way you see yourself.  I don't see weakness, I see strength.  So do the girls, so do Lennie and Jack.  Lisa and Jorge, I don't know.  But the rest of us see that you're doing the best you can, through a lot of pain and difficulty."  She stroked his shoulder, his arm, tracing over the long scar absently.  He shivered and drew his arm away, and she made a small sound in her throat.

"Don't," he murmured, pulling away slightly and wiping at his eyes.

"Don't what?  Touch your scars?"  He was silent.  "Don't hide them.  Not at home.  Not from me."

"They're ugly as hell," he muttered uncomfortably.

"They're part of you now.  Like everything else that's happened."  She traced the long cut awkwardly and softly said, "They're not ugly to me.  I accept them like I accept everything else about you."  He forced himself to not twitch or draw away as she gently traced the scars on his wrists as well.

They lay together for a while, not talking, then she asked very softly, "Rey, why didn't you ever tell me before, that you wanted to commit suicide?"

He sighed heavily.  "How could I, hon?"

"How did Lennie and Jack find out?"

"I told Lennie."

"How?"

"It was just after I got out of Riker's, after I was arrested.  He wanted me to talk to him and I said I didn't want to because I really tried not to think about everything that was wrong with my life, because when I thought about it I just wanted to end it all."

"Why couldn't you have said that to me?"

"You were part of it, Deborah.  Being cut off from you was killing me.  You don't know... you don't know how I feel about you.  Things were so bad between us - it was like we were strangers living under the same roof."

"I can't believe I didn't know."

"I didn't want you to know.  I was too ashamed."

"Too ashamed to even ask for help?"  He shrugged uncomfortably.  "Why could you ask Lennie and not me?"

"Wasn't really by choice.  Things just sorta came to a head a few weeks after I was arrested and I couldn't deal with it on my own any more.  It was ask for help or kill myself, and I didn't wanna put you and the girls through that."

"You can't let it get that far again, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know," he said tiredly.

"You know I'm here, and Lisa's here a lot too.  We can help.  You just need to ask."

Rey nodded.  "I know."  He was silent for a moment, then said, "Hon, you know what I really need?"

"What?"

"I really need to get outta here."

"What, right now?"

"No, not right now, I'm, I'm OK with us talking like we're doing right now, it's just... all of you are driving me crazy.  I know you all mean well, but... every time I turn around somebody's looking at me with this concerned look on their face and I really can't take it anymore.  I need a break."

"OK..." she said reluctantly, then pulled him close and kissed him, putting an end to their talk.  He kissed her back, caressing her face gently and taking comfort in her closeness, grateful to be done talking, for now at least.  Distantly wishing things were better between them physically, but not willing to risk trying to go any farther.  He felt too awkward and self-conscious, as well as unwilling to risk the panic and nausea that he'd felt the last time they went too far.  Better just to leave things as they were.

===

_Friday, March 5  
11:58 p.m._

"Yeah?  Who is it?" Lennie asked, surprised that somebody would be knocking at his door so late at night.

"L-Lennie?  C'n I come in?"  Lennie opened the door to find Rey shivering in the hallway.  Rey's teeth were chattering and he was hugging himself tightly, entire body shaking with the cold.

"What the hell are you doing here?  Are you OK?" Lennie said, concerned.

"Y-yeah, I'm f-fine," Rey nodded, unable to say any more.  Lennie took in his appearance - shivering, lips almost blue, not dressed for the weather in a thin jacket and faded jeans and running shoes.  He noted also a slightly glassy look to his eyes and unsteadiness even through the shaking.

"Get inside," he said, concern making his tone brusque.  "You look like you're freezing to death.  How long you been outside?"

"I - I dunno," Rey managed, going further into the apartment.  He stumbled a bit and Lennie unthinkingly put a hand on his shoulder to steady him.  Rey gasped and turned around quickly, knocking Lennie's hand away and stepping back with a frightened look in his eyes, rapidly suppressed and morphing into embarrassment.

"S-sorry, Lennie, you s-startled me," he apologized in a low voice, looking down and biting his lip.

"OK, OK, just go in, siddown. I'll bring you a blanket or something."  Rey made his way to the couch while Lennie went to get a blanket from the linen closet and brought it to him.  Rey drew it around himself, shivering.

"Are you OK?"

"Y-yeah, jus' - jus' cold."

"You drunk?"

"Yeah, that too," he admitted.

"You high?"

"N-no, I, I went to a bar an'... Lennie, wouldja - wouldja mind if I s-stay here f'r the n-night?"

"Sure, no problem.  Lisa's at your place?"

"Yeah," the shivers were finally starting to die down.  Rey looked up at him a bit sheepishly.  "I wen' out, an' now I don't th-think I should go back.  N-not like this."

"OK, OK, you want me to give Lisa a call, let her know you're here?"

"Yeah, good idea."

Lennie went to the phone and called Rey's place while Rey warmed up on his couch.

"Hi Lisa, it's Lennie."

"Lennie?"

"Yeah, listen, uh... Rey's over here, he's had a few too many... do you mind if he stays here the night?"

"No, no, of course not," Lisa answered automatically.  She paused for a second.  "Too many what?" she asked, her voice neutral.

"Just beer, I think."  Rey glanced up at him from the couch, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"You think he went home with anybody?" she asked, still in the same neutral tone.

"I don't think so."

"Yeah, I wouldn't think he would.  No problem, Lennie, I'll let Deborah know."

"Thanks."  Lennie hung up.

"She wanted ta know if'm high?"

"Yeah," Lennie admitted.

"'Mnot.  I told'er I wasn't gonna do it any more.  Tol' you too," he added, a little annoyed.

"Why'd you get drunk?"

Rey shrugged, looking away.

"You know, I can't believe I'm saying this, but if you are gonna use anything to deal with your problems, it would probably be better to use pot than booze."

"Pot's illegal.  Booze in't."

"Alcohol's addictive. Pot isn't."

"Is to me.  I wan' it a lot more'n I want beer.  An' it matters to me, that it's illegal," he rubbed his arms under the blanket.  "Plus I can't screw up even one more time, an' if there's another drug test at th' precinct..."

"You shouldn't be using anything anyway.  It can get way too easy to make this a habit."

"I know, OK?  I'm doin' my best here.  I jus' needed a break."

"Did you... how much of a break did you take?"

"Los' count after nine."

Ouch.  He'd never seen Rey this drunk before.  Intoxicated and unsteady, but never fall-down wasted.  He asked evenly, "I mean, did you do anything else for escape?"

For a moment Rey didn't get it, then he did and he answered scornfully without thinking.  "Oh yeah, right, Lennie.  I can' even let m'own wife touch me, 'm sure's hell not gonna let some stranger-" he suddenly closed his mouth and looked away, cheeks burning, cursing under his breath.  He hadn't meant to blurt that out.

Lennie cleared his throat, also embarrassed by Rey's involuntary confidence.  He stood up.  "I'll get you a glass of water and some aspirin," he said, going into the washroom.  He came back and put the aspirin and water on the coffee table in front of Rey, sitting back down in the easy chair.  An uncomfortable silence reigned for a few moments.

"How are you doing?"

"OK.  Thanks for th' blanket, 'm not chilled any more."

"You're not looking too good."

"Not feelin' too good."

"You gonna throw up?"

"Hope not," he said a little short of breath.  Lennie quickly got up to get a trash can.

"Wha?" Rey asked, taking in Lennie's worried frown.

"Never seen you this drunk before."

Rey nodded weakly.  "Don' do this a lot.  Hadn' had a drink since... since Deb'ra came back."

"So how come you did it tonight?"  Rey shrugged.  "Did you plan on getting drunk?"

"Nah.  Just wanted ta get out."  He swallowed hard, dizzy.  "God, how'd you live like this f'r years?"

"Not too sure right now," Lennie said, gazing at him in sympathy.  "You know what?  I don't want you to pass out in my living room.  I'm gonna put you to bed."

"Nah, 'm OK..."

He ignored Rey's half-hearted protest.  "I'm gonna help you up."  He carefully put a hand under Rey's elbow.  "OK, up you go."  Rey stood up slowly, closing his eyes in dizziness.

"Oh, 'm gonna-"

"It's OK, it's an old carpet anyway.  Try not to, but if you lose your lunch don't worry about it."  Rey nodded, eyes still closed.

"Rey, open your eyes.  I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but if you keep them open you're less likely to throw up."  He guided Rey slowly, Rey stumbling repeatedly.    "Come on, Rey, work with me here," he grunted, realizing Rey was no longer able to walk without more support.  He drew Rey's arm around his own shoulders, steadying his weight, wincing in sympathy.  Rey was gonna have the mother of all hangovers tomorrow.

They finally reached the bed and Lennie gently let Rey down, helping him to lie back, then quickly went back to the living room, hoping to get the trash can in place before it was needed.  He deposited it next to the bed, looking at Rey's ashen face with concern.

"You OK?"

"Yeah..." Rey said indistinctly.

"Think you can sleep it off?"

"Yeah..."

"OK.  I'll stay for a bit.  Trash can's right here."

"OK... y'know, I c'n sleep on th' couch-"

"You'd probably fall off, the state you're in."

"Prob'ly.  Thanks."

"How come you got so drunk?"

Rey was silent for a long time.  No, he didn't want to talk about this, any of it.  He'd gone out to get away from this kind of thing.  Besides, he'd leaned on Lennie so much in the last few months.  He shouldn't still be leaning on him.

He glanced over at Lennie.  Saw concern and caring, a genuine desire to help.  Felt something weaken inside.  "Fuck... ev'rything."  He closed his eyes.  "Ev'rything.  Jack tell you 'bout the case?"

"Yeah."

"Pisses me off.  They ran a kit on me, Lennie.  Took - took a swab from inside my mouth.  They found 'is hair on my clothes.  Lookin' for evidence of a crime.  On _me_."    He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see Lennie's expression.  "Makes m'skin crawl.  Bein' a crime scene.  Feel like I was raped, you know?  An' I can't handle it."  He swallowed hard.

"An', now, now he's sayin' it was my idea, an', an' he's sayin' that... that I - that he... an' the worst part is, I _know_ he din', but... but I forgot other stuff, y'know?  Li'l tiny part 'o me sez, what if he's right an' I jus' made myself forget?"

Lennie closed his eyes for a moment.  Lord, that would be a nightmare, not even knowing for sure what had or hadn't happened to you.  Rey continued slowly.  "That scumbag.  He won, you know?  I put 'im in there but he put me in Hell.  Feel so scared alla time.  Don' want anybody to touch me.  Ever again.  Feel like a fuckin' cheap whore, never gonna be me again.  I can' even touch Deborah sometimes, don' wanna get her dirty too."

He turned away, speaking softly, almost to himself.  "Felt so close to 'er, y'know?  An' we couldn't, we couldn't, y'know, really do it but, but... I felt so close to 'er when we... an' now I can't, jus' get grossed out."

"Rey, I'm sorry," Lennie said, feeling so inadequate.  What words could possibly make this OK?

"Fuck'im.  Sick bastard.  An' it's my fault anyway."

"How do you figure?"

"Din' do nothin' that diff'rent from when I was cheatin' on Deborah, lettin' strangers... Aagh," he shook his head, unable to continue.  "Shoulda felt like this all along."  He paused.  "Jus' remem'er lyin' there, lettin' 'im... ah, shit, gonna throw up," he said hopelessly.  He closed his eyes and swallowed a few times, battling the urge to heave.

"No, come on, keep your eyes open," Lennie said sharply.  Rey nodded, fighting the nausea, and Lennie added, more gently, "Rey, this isn't your fault.  You don't deserve this."

"Well if I din' deserve it, fuck'im then.  An' fuck God too."  Lennie drew in his breath sharply, profoundly shocked to hear Rey say that.  Rey chuckled bitterly.  "That's prob'ly blasphemy, yeah?  'Course it's blasphemy."  He closed his eyes.  "Whatever.  Y'know?  Like, what's God gonna do, strike me down?  Make m'wife and kid sick?  Make me go to prison so some sick sonofabitch can - whatever.  Been there, done that."  He paused.  "That's th' nice thing 'bout bein' at rock bottom, there's really nowhere to go but up," he said faintly.

"Rey..." Lennie put his hand on Rey's shoulder and Rey jerked away.

"D-don't!!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Lennie said quickly, cursing himself.  It was so automatic to him, comforting somebody with a touch.  But you don't touch somebody who's been sexually assaulted, not without being very sure they're OK with it. The last thing they need is anybody, even a friend, violating their personal space.

The problem was that he kept forgetting.  This was Rey, for god's sake, not some vic he'd met at a hospital or crime scene.  This was the guy who'd been his partner for four years, who had unflinchingly faced down violent felons and tackled people carrying weapons.  Not somebody he had to be careful not to spook with a simple touch on the shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Lennie repeatedly ineffectually.  Rey was looking away from him, biting his lip, angry at his own automatic reactions, at himself for being so easily frightened.  He covered his eyes.

"Y'know what?"  he said slowly.  "I wish... I wish I cut deeper that day."

"No you don't."

"Yeah, I do."  Rey met Lennie's eyes.  "I do.  I'm real sorry fer all I done wrong, y'know?"

"I know."

"But I don' wanna be aroun' fer this, even if I d'serve it.  Jus' wanna check out."

"You'll get through it."

"Don' wanna get through it.  Jus' wanna get away.  Damn nightmares'n flashbacks'n feelin' like crap.  Goin' nuts."  He regarded Lennie for a long moment, then said hesitantly, "Lennie... y'think I oughtta go to a hospital?"

"For alcohol poisoning?" Lennie asked, confused by the non sequitur.

"No.  Check inna a mental ward or somethin'."

Yeah, that might be a good idea, Lennie thought.  Lord knew he couldn't do anything to help.  "We'll talk about it tomorrow.  Go to sleep.  You'll feel better in the morning."

"OK," Rey said trustingly, and closed his eyes.  Lennie watched Rey's breathing even out until he was asleep.

===

_Saturday, March 6  
10:02am_

"Of all the beds I've ended up in this last year, never thought I'd end up in yours," Rey commented as he entered Lennie's kitchen the next morning.  "Twice now."  Lennie smiled.  "Havta say, it beats the bunk beds in Sing Sing."

"How much do you remember about last night?" Lennie poured him a coffee.

"Not a lot.  That's probably a good thing," Rey sipped the coffee gratefully, wishing it contained some sort of magical hangover cure.  "I'm sure I said stuff I'll probably regret."

"You said stuff that hadda be said."

Rey looked down into his cup.  "Like what?"

"You talked about how you were feeling, about the rape kit and all.  Said you were feeling suicidal again.  Asked if I thought you should check into a hospital."

Rey groaned and covered his eyes for a moment.  "Do you?" he finally asked quietly.

"I dunno, partner.  This is pretty scary."

"Yeah.  What the hell's life come to when the only thing you can think to deal with it is to check into a psych ward."

"You wouldn't have to worry about it looking bad during your murder trial any more."

"Yeah, I know.  Lennie... I don't wanna go back to prison though.  That's what a mental ward is.  I know they'd probably keep me safe and maybe even help, but... it scares the hell outta me, thinking about voluntarily walking into a place with locks and guards."  He sipped his coffee, thinking.  "Man, I never used to be scared of anything.  I thought it was bravery... it was just ignorance.  You remember when I pulled my gun on that biker?"

"It was kinda memorable, Rey," Lennie smiled.  "Near-death experiences usually are."

"I wasn't scared.  I was pissed off, but I wasn't scared.  What the hell was I thinking?" he laughed slightly.

"Kids always think they're invincible.  For what it's worth, I almost had a coronary."

"I've always had a lousy temper. Since I was a kid.  Serena comes by hers honestly."

"Speaking of lousy temper, how's work?"

Rey shrugged.  "It's there.  It's OK.  The day I went back I made myself go and apologize to the two guys I attacked." He smiled wryly.  "That's like my new hobby, apologizing to people.  Like, Hi, my name's Rey 'I'm Sorry' Curtis."  He sighed.  "The thing is, it's been going OK, but... it's just - it's taking everything I have to just do the bare minimum, just to stay on track.  And the other day, this guy pissed me off and you have no idea how close I came to..." he shook his head.  "It's so damn hard to just be adequate."

"Yeah, been there," Lennie commented.  Rey shot him a questioning glance.  "You think I went from chronic drunk to working Homicide, good close rate and all that?" He snorted.  "It took months of just concentrating on not going for a drink, the hell with close rates.  That's all you can do at first.  It gets better though."

"Is that a guarantee?"  Lennie reluctantly shook his head.  "I didn't think so." Rey sighed again.  "So.  Shit.  Checking into a hospital.  What the hell would I tell my daughters?"

"Your daughters could handle it.  They're pretty strong."

"Yeah, I know," Rey nodded sadly.

"What's wrong with that?"

"I didn't want them to have to be strong, Lennie.  I just wanted them to be kids."  Lennie was silent, having no response to that.

"You know Deborah asked if I felt suicidal."

"What did you tell her?"

"That I didn't.  'Cause I can hang on to her and then I'm OK.  And it's true, mostly, but... but I can just feel myself sliding right back down.  God, I do not want to go there again," he shuddered, taking a sip of his coffee.

"What's scary is, I know I can do it.  You know there's always this little part of you that says, no matter how bad it gets, well, you've never actually done it before.  I'd come damn close, I'd loaded a gun and - but I never actually did it.  I always wondered if I really could or if some part of me would always, you know, say no."  He rubbed at one wrist absentmindedly, and Lennie kept himself from visibly wincing at the livid scar visible as he rubbed.

"Well, now I know I can.  I didn't cut to kill myself, but I knew I might die.  And I did it anyway.  It's a little scary to know that, that I'm capable of that."  They were silent for a moment.

"So what are you gonna do?" Lennie finally broke the silence.

"I dunno.  Try and hang on a little longer, I guess."

"You know, there's other options, other than checking into a hospital.  I mean... there's that shrink, maybe that'll help."  Rey shrugged, unconvinced.  "Well, what about-"

"Man, if you're gonna suggest another support group I'm gonna get your gun and shoot you with it."

Lennie chuckled despite the seriousness of the situation.  "You know, you have a much better sense of humour now than when we were partners."

"Great.  My life's a mess but I'm one funny guy," Rey said sourly and Lennie smiled.

"Hey, the last time I made you go join a group it wasn't so bad, was it?"  Rey shrugged.  "You still going to Mainstay?"

"Yeah, actually.  And Deborah wants to get to know some of the other couples, so we're gonna invite over Jason and his wife.  And I'm signed up to do a presentation for them next month, for MS and Pain Control.  Everyone's supposed to do at least one a year."

"Good for you."  Lennie stared into his cup for a moment.  "What about your priest?  You think you could talk to him?"  Rey frowned.  "What?"

"He's... I think, I'm not sure, but there's been rumours at the parish that he's leaving the priesthood."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah.  He had to make a public apology for revealing my mother's confession, and resign his post as senior, and then he was on retreat for a long time... and now they say he's leaving."

"Because of the confession?"

"I don't know.  God, I hope not."  He sat for a moment, frowning introspectively.  "I think... I think I'm gonna testify," he said slowly, somewhat surprised to hear those words coming out of his mouth.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah.  I think... maybe I do need to face that son of a bitch."


	6. Justice

**CHAPTER 6: JUSTICE**

_Wednesday, March 10  
1:17am_

Lisa woke up, wondering why she was awake.  She heard a soft noise in the kitchen, and slowly got up from the couch.  She looked into the kitchen, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

"It's all right, Lisa, it's just me," said Rey's tired voice.  Lisa was barely able to make out her brother sitting at the kitchen table, head pillowed on his crossed arms.

"Nalo?"

"Yeah."

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah.  Did I wake you up?"

"I don't know.  How long you been here?"

"I dunno.  A while.  I couldn't sleep."

"Nightmare?" She came closer slowly.  He shrugged, looking away from her.

"I didn't wanna wake up Deborah.  Sorry if I woke you up."

She sank down next to him, not knowing what to say, then realized he was shivering.  "You want me to get you a blanket or something?"

"Nah, I'm OK."

Lisa sighed.

"What?"

"I just... I wish you were little again.  I could always make you feel better when we were kids.  I could almost always help.  I can't any more."  She remembered his small face so vividly, lower lip jutting out and dark eyes glittering with anger when somebody hurt him.  He had always turned to her when he was upset.  There wasn't much left of the little boy he'd been; the last few years had taken care of that.  Her baby brother was now a thin, tired man with eyes much too old for somebody not even forty.

"Yeah, you help.  You do."  He raised his head and gave her a small smile.  "You've always gone above and beyond big sister duty for me, you know."

"Yeah, well, that's what Mama taught us.  The older ones gotta take care of the younger ones.  You woulda done the same thing for Josefina."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"You were a good big brother.  Josefina looked up to you like you wouldn't believe.  You were her hero."

"I wonder what she woulda been like when she grew up."

"I think she woulda been a nun."  He laughed.  "Seriously.  You know how serious she was about church."

"Yeah, well, Jorge always said I'd end up a priest, so who knows."  They chuckled together.

"Ah, you woulda made a good priest."

"I don't think the Church woulda been too tolerant of me picking up at the bars," he said lightly, but his eyes were shadowed as he looked away from her.  Lisa hesitated, then put her hand on his shoulder comfortingly, expecting him to draw away as he had since he was released.  To her surprise, he allowed the touch, and leaned against her with a sigh.  She put her arm around his shoulders and hugged him close.  They were silent for a minute, then he chuckled ruefully.

"Shit, I'm five years old again and you're hugging me 'cause I got a boo-boo.  Or 'cause Pop smacked me in the head for mouthing off at him."

"You always had a big mouth.  You had a real knack for getting yourself into trouble."

"Still do."

"Yeah.  You took a couple decades off though.  From right after Josefina's death till the first time you cheated on Deborah, that was what, twenty years of perfect behaviour.  That's pretty impressive."

"Not impressive enough."  She squeezed his shoulder sadly, then sighed.

"God, I wish I could make this better for you."

"I think it's gonna take more than a band-aid and a hug this time."

"Chocolate milk?"

He grinned.  "Maybe."  She smiled, then cleared her throat.

"Deborah says you're gonna testify."

"Yeah," he said grimly.

"How are you doing with that?"

"Eh.  Good and bad.  Some days I feel OK because I'm finally doing something about it... other days I wonder what the hell I'm getting into."

"I think it'll be good for you."

"Hope so.  Won't be easy though."  He suddenly chuckled.  "You know what's funny?  You know Jamie wants me to be named in a civil suit after the criminal's done?"

"Yeah."

"Can you see that?  Rey Curtis, NYPD, poster boy for prisoner's rights?"  Lisa met his eyes and they both cracked up.

"Yeah, OK," Lisa gasped.  "That's..." she dissolved into giggles again.  "I guess I hadn't thought of it that way.  That is pretty ridiculous."

===

_Saturday, March 13  
10:08pm_

"Daddy, are you high?"

"Oh now that's a question I always wanted t'hear from my children.  Daddy are you high.  God," Rey put an arm over his face.  Serena persisted, sitting down next to him on the couch.

"Are you?"

"No, sweetie.  I've just... I've had too much t'drink," he said faintly.  He'd come to Lennie's house to sober up again, but half an hour later, Serena had shown up unexpectedly.  And now he was getting the third degree from her.  He started to sit up.

"You're drunk?"

"Yeah.  Sweetheart, please go away, OK?  Lennie, get 'er outta here."

"No, I wanna stay, I don't mind that you're drunk."

"I do."

"Why'd you drink so much?"

"Serena, your dad's right.  You shouldn't be here.  I'll call you a cab."

"Dad, I'm not leaving," she said firmly, "Lie down again, you don't look too good."

"You shouldn't see me like this, sweetheart," he said, acknowledging that she probably had a point and lying back down.

"It's OK.  People drink too much sometimes.  It's not a big deal," she patted his arm gently.

"Is to me," he said faintly.  Jesus.  Bad enough just trying to exist through the blurriness and confusion of alcohol... but trying to enunciate clearly and think straight near an eleven-year old... god, how could you be a parent when you could barely string two thoughts together coherently?  How did Lennie do it?

Not real good, to hear Lennie tell it.  He could certainly understand why.  Better just keep quiet.  If Serena would only let him.

"Did you drink 'cause you were upset?"

"I only ever drink when'm upset."

"Does it make you feel better?"

"Not for long, no."

"Then how come-"

"If you're gonna be here, can you at least jus' be quiet?"

"OK."  There was a brief silence.  "Daddy, are you an alcoholic?"

"Oh, there's another question I always wanted to hear from my kids," he said faintly, eyes closed.

"Are you?"

"Lennie, you field this one, OK?"

"No, he's not."

"He drinks too much."

"Not enough.  Not often enough.  Although I gotta tell ya, partner..."

"Yeah, I know."

"Why don't you just stay home with us when you're upset?"

"'Cause you're parta why I'm upset, sweetie.  I need to get away sometimes."  She looked hurt.  "Serena, this isn't a good idea.  I can't think straight right now, I don' wanna say stuff that's gonna hurt you.  Please, if you wanna help me, please go home.  Lennie, call 'er a cab, OK?" he tried to think through the alcohol haze, knew he had to say something reassuring to her.  "Sweetie, I'm OK, I'll be home later.  I'm not doin' anything dangerous, I just had too much to drink an' now I'm sobering up.  OK?  Thanks for looking out for me, but you don' need to worry.  I'm OK."

Serena expression was doubtful as she grudgingly gave in.  "OK."

"Jesus, what a nightmare," Rey muttered after she had left.  "'Daddy are you high'.  I never thought I'd hear that from my own kids."

"She's worried about you."

"Yeah, yeah.  Everybody's worried about me.  What a great boost t' th' ego.  Makes me wanna puke."

"They care about you."  Rey nodded wearily.  "Did you go to the shrink?"

"Yeah."

"How's that going?"

"Ah, hell, I hate it.  I know it's s'posed to be good for me, I'm giving it a go, but... I really, really hate it."

"Is it helping at all, with the nightmares?"

"Nah, too soon to tell anyway.  Only gone once."  He chuckled suddenly.  "I was waitin' for him to say, 'Tell me about your mother', 'cause man, would I have a story for him."  Lennie laughed.

"What about your priest?"  Rey shook his head.  "He's really leaving?"  Shrug.  Lennie cast about for something else to suggest.

"You know what might be good?" Rey said suddenly.  "Lisa's movin' here.  Yeah, she asked her company t' transfer her here, 'cause she found out one of the apartments in our building's vacant so she's renting it.  Good thing her last name's not Curtis too or the landlady woulda run screaming, what with me going to jail and gettin' behind on rent all the time and Serena arrested for drugs and my mother offing herself and all that.  She hasn't had a lotta luck with Curtises."

"What about your sister's husband?"

"She said it was a no-brainer: help out her brother and his family, or stay with 'er alcoholic and abusive husband."

"She finally admitted he's abusive?"

"Yeah.  I asked her how come she never said so before... she said he only hit 'er about once a year, and he din' ever cheat on her, so she figured she was doing pretty good."

Lennie winced.

"Yeah.  Said what with her father and both brothers runnin' around on their wives, she figured she should just be grateful.  Christ.  Like I needed that on my conscience too."

"Come on," Lennie said impatiently.  "Your sister's problems are not your fault."

"No, but the fact that she stayed with 'im-"

"Is not your fault."  Rey was silent.  "Next you're gonna tell me Morelli leaving the priesthood is because of you too."  Rey looked away.  "What is it with you Catholics?"  Lennie asked, exasperated.  "The whole bunch of you.  Everything good is God's will and everything bad is your fault."

Rey chuckled despite himself.  "That's real tolerant, Lennie."

"I was raised Catholic, remember?  Never got that whole guilt thing.  I got plenty to feel bad about, for things I've actually done wrong.  I don't need to take on guilt for the people around me."  He shook his head in disgust and changed the subject.  "Hey, you want me to turn a game on?"

"Sure.  I guess'm not that drunk, the thoughta moving images doesn' make me feel sick."

"No, you look OK.  Still shouldn't go home for a couple hours, but... nothing like last time."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry about that."

"Eh.  Don't worry about it.  At least you didn't puke on my rug."  Rey smiled slightly, a bit embarrassed.  "Hey, you know Briscoe's Detox is always open for business.  I just hope you don't need to use it too many more times."

"Yeah, me too."

===

_Sunday, March 14  
3:30pm_

"So it's true?" Rey asked the next day.

"Yes."

"What are you going to do after you leave, Father?"

"Neil."

"Sorry, I can't... can't call you by your first name."

"Well, it's not going to be Father much longer, so I may as well get used to it."

"Did you already hand in your resignation?"

"Yesterday.  The Monsignor has to think about it."

Rey regarded Morelli for a long moment as Morelli tidied his desk.  So many years he'd spent at this church, in this office.  It was strange to think of Morelli no longer being part of the parish, part of the Church.  "Father... Neil, you're married to the Church."

"Yes, well, so much for that."

"But this is like a divorce.  You've counseled people who were on the verge of getting a divorce before-"

"It's not the same."

"The hell it's not.  This is a waste.  Do you want to leave?"

"No."

"Then why are you leaving?"

"You have to ask?  You, of all people?"

"Because you failed me?  Failed my mother?"  Morelli looked down.  "Why don't you ask?  Ask if anybody wants you to leave.  Ask me if I want you to leave."  Rey stopped, frustrated, knowing he wasn't getting through.  "You made mistakes.  People make mistakes."

"What I did to you and your family was more than a mistake.  You just don't want to see that."

"Father-"

"Neil."

"OK, _Neil_, you're being an idiot.  You're throwing away a career - a marriage, out of misplaced guilt."

"Misplaced?"

"You didn't cause my problems!  Deborah would've had MS whether you were our priest or not, my mother would've had Alzheimer's, we would've had Tania and she would've been sick... none of that was your fault!  How arrogant is that, thinking you're responsible for all of it?!" Rey shook his head, remembering Lennie's words from the day before.  Catholic guilt.  It did get to be too much sometimes.

Morelli gazed at Rey thoughtfully, reflecting that Rey hadn't spoken to him like this in a very, very long time.  They'd started out as equals.  When they first met, both were confident young men, both starting out in their careers.  They had become friends, and although Rey confessed to him, he was quite able to disagree with him outside the confessional.

Over the years their relationship had changed.  It had started with Rey's first infidelity, then with the counseling he had done for Rey and Deborah, gotten better briefly in the months between Rey and Deborah's reconciliation and her diagnosis with MS... and then slowly gone to hell as their family was hit with one tragedy after another, as Rey did more and more things that Morelli couldn't agree with, that angered and disappointed him.  For years now, Rey had spoken to him only in the most subdued, respectful tone.  Usually ashamed of himself, exhausted, broken.  Penitent.

And now, here he was, worse off than before but somehow able to defy him, tell him he was being an idiot.  Morelli smiled slightly.

"What?  What's so funny?" Rey asked, a little miffed.

"This.  You - eight years ago you spoke to me like this.  You haven't in a long time."  Rey was slightly taken aback.  "It's good to see you get your spirit back."  Rey smiled a little uncertainly.

"The Monsignor doesn't want you to quit, does he?"  Morelli sighed heavily.  "Then don't."

"What good can I do?  What good did I ever do you?"

"You really think you never helped?  That all you ever did was make things worse for me?"  Morelli didn't answer and Rey cleared his throat, uncomfortable with what he was about to say, but knowing he had to get through somehow.

"Look... you, you saved my life."  Morelli's eyebrows went up.  "I was feeling suicidal, I didn't know what to do.  And I never told you, because I - I didn't wanna admit it, but... but I thought a lot about what you said.  About God's forgiveness, and about how my family needed me.  It made me keep trying.  You didn't know you were helping, but you were."

"I made you feel guilty for not being perfect.  You were doing the best you could and I added to your problems."

"No you didn't.  I didn't need anybody to remind me I was screwing up, I knew that already.  I did need somebody to remind me that I deserved better from myself.  I didn't think I deserved anything any more."  Morelli looked at him, curious.  Rey cleared his throat uncomfortably.  "I needed somebody to remind me that God could still forgive me, that I wasn't a lost cause.  That... that God hadn't deserted me."

Morelli felt his eyes unexpectedly filling with tears.

"You did your best," Rey said gently.  "And... your parishioners still need you.  I still need you.  You - you know I'm gonna be testifying in this damn case.  And I'm not doing too good.  I'm sort of up and down.  I went to this PBA shrink, but... I can't talk to him.  Especially when... when it has to do with how I'm having trouble not losing my faith through all of this.  I can talk to you.  Don't go."

Morelli gazed at him uncertainly, impatiently wiping his eyes.

"You're a good priest.  If you were perfect, you'd be God.  You told me that God had forgiven me, but I needed to forgive myself.  It was true.  And it's true for you too."

===

_Wednesday, March 17  
11:01pm_

Rey smiled as Deborah drew him close.  Kissing, caressing at the end of the day... it felt so nice... so peaceful.  He knew that in part Deborah initiated it because it helped her feel like she was doing something to help him get over this whatever-it-was, but he didn't mind.  Before he'd gone away, he'd reminded her that even though she didn't feel desire any more, she still needed human touch.  And now she was doing the same for him.

And it was nice to touch, to just feel close again, without anything else coming from it.  He knew intellectually that some day he wouldn't shy away whenever he started to feel aroused, but he didn't think about it.  The nice thing about being with Deborah was that at least he didn't have to worry about her feeling sexually frustrated while he kept them platonic, even though it had been weeks.

So now here they were, kissing again, and he was starting to feel sleepy.  He smiled at Deborah, cupping her cheek, a drowsy smile coming back at him, and he felt so peaceful.  They had always communicated so much better physically than verbally.  It was so good to have this back.  She kissed him again, and ran her hand up from where it was resting on his waist to his neck.  He dropped his head back, sighing happily.

"Mmm, that feels nice."

"What?"

"Whatever you're doing.  I think I had a kink in my neck.  Just keep your hand right there-" he moved his head a few times.  "Mmm.  I love you."

"Because I got rid of a kink in your neck?"

"Yeah.  The fourteen years of marriage and the four kids might have something to do with it too, but mostly it's a neck thing."

She chuckled, kissed him again, caressing the back of his neck.  He kissed her back, suddenly becoming still as her hand brushed against his cheek and he felt a shiver run down his spine.  She stopped and started to draw back automatically, and he reached up and held her hand where it was.  He closed his eyes took a deep breath, then opened them and gazed at her.  He kissed her again, and she slowly moved her hand down his back, eliciting another shiver and prompting him to pull away very slightly.  Their eyes met, hers questioning and his uncertain, then he kissed her again and drew closer to her.

He was feeling desire again, but it wasn't so... disgusting any more.  This was OK.  This had nothing to do with anything bad, this was just them.  Not repulsive, not violent... just them.

She drew closer, pulling them together and feeling him starting to get aroused.  He seemed OK with this, though... and she sighed happily as he shyly kissed the base of her throat, her collarbone, brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.

"Is this OK?" she asked quietly.

"Mhm," he nodded, looking at her again.  He smiled slightly, holding her hand in his.  She stroked his cheek and he sighed, his pupils dilating.  His breath caught for a moment, then he kissed her again, drawing his hand up to her face, then slowly down her front.

She nodded as he silently asked her permission, then slipped his hand into her nightgown and caressed her.  She tilted her head back, closing her eyes, enjoying the feel of his hands as he gradually grew less hesitant, more passionate.

"Oh..." he sighed, turning aside for a moment, momentarily spooked by something and taking a few breaths to calm himself, then came back to her mouth.  She felt a surge of tenderness.  He had been so badly hurt by those six days.  He had taken so long to just feel OK being touched.  And now he was slowly, slowly claiming back their intimate life together, still skittish, but gradually growing more confident.

She wished suddenly that she had Rico Gonzalez before her for just one moment, just long enough to pull a trigger and kill him for what he had done, for the pain he had caused Rey.  Firmly set aside those thoughts - this was no place to be thinking of Rico Gonzalez.

Rey kissed the side of her neck and she felt a flicker of something too.  Her eyes opened wide - while it wasn't unheard of for her to experience sexual feelings, it was pretty unusual.  He went to move back to her mouth and she quickly put her hand out, cursing inwardly as it shook and refused to obey her.  He looked at her, questioning.

"Go back to what you were doing... that felt really nice," she said shyly, breathlessly.  His eyebrows went up.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she grinned at him.  He returned to the side of her neck and she drew her breath in sharply.  He chuckled, continued what he was doing, feeling a surge of passion sparked by the excitement of Deborah actually responding to him physically, not just emotionally.  It probably wouldn't go anywhere or last very long, but it was still pretty powerful.

She hugged him closer, gasping in pleasure and delighted surprise.  "Holy shit!" she exclaimed without thinking, and he burst out laughing.  She started to giggle too, and they held each other as they shook with mirth.  So much for the mood.

"Deborah!" he teased, "what a way to put the brakes on!"

She grinned a little sheepishly.  "Sorry, it just felt really strange.  I'm not used to feeling that way any more."

He grinned back.  "Was it OK though?"

"Yeah.  Just surprised me a little."

"Me too."  They held each other for a while, hands wandering a bit but not really going back to what they had been doing.  The mood was gone, and neither one really wanted to get it back, content with how far they'd gone and content to leave things as they were.

"Deborah?"  Rey said very quietly.

"Mhm?"

"Did you ever think about the stuff I told you about, what Jason talked about in the MS and Intimacy talk?"

"You mean, the stuff about... about vibrators and all that?" she said quickly, embarrassed.  He nodded.  "Yeah.  I... I'm OK with us just doing what we're doing.  Mostly," she took a deep breath.  "I - I don't know if I'd be comfortable with, you know... would, would you want us to?" she was tongue-tied.  When they had first become intimate again, he'd told her that apparently many women with MS used various sexual aids to help achieve actual arousal and orgasm, but it just didn't seem like anything she wanted to pursue.  She was happy with their sex life the way it was - or rather, the way it had been for those few short days before he'd gone away.  The way they were working to get back to.

Except that now, seeing how he was facing his own embarrassment and fear claiming back his own sexuality, she felt like a bit of a coward.

"Would - would you want us to try that stuff?"  He shrugged, just as shy as she was.  Their eyes met and they gazed at each other for a moment.

"We'll see, OK?" she finally said, and he nodded.  She stretched out a bit, pulled him so that he was resting his head on her shoulder, and held him close.

"Deborah, how long... how long does it usually take before, um... before people get back to how they were before?"

She shrugged helplessly.  "It depends on the person, how they were before.  And how severe the attack was."

"That's not much of an answer."

"Best I can give you."  He nodded.  "How are you feeling?"

He shrugged.  "Better, I guess."

"Good."  He tried to stifle a yawn and she smiled.  "Let's go to sleep, OK?"

He nodded and settled himself against her shoulder, and within minutes he was sleeping peacefully.

She lay there for a little while, stroking his hair as he slept. Somehow she never thought she'd be in this position, dealing with Rey being this badly hurt, this unsure of himself.  She felt like she was walking a minefield with him sometimes - the slightest misstep could spook him or set off an unpleasant reaction.  And she knew it was a thousand times worse for him.

He'd always been so confident.  Even in the last few years he'd done his best to not let her see his doubts or insecurities.  Now he didn't seem to want to hide from her any more.  He'd even woken her up once, late at night, not to talk, just to keep him company and get him through the night, keep the nightmares away.  Things were going well enough between them that he was allowing her to see him at his most vulnerable, allowing her to help when she could, just be there and lend support when she couldn't.  It felt like they were closer than they had been in years.

Deborah held Rey closer, closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.

===

_Wednesday, March 31  
10:56am_

"We did a full physical after he came in, while he was unconscious," Dr. Udall said.

"What did you find?" asked Serena Southerlyn.  Jack had turned over the case against Gonzalez, Johnson and Warden Gether to her, since he couldn't try it himself, especially since he was to be one of the witnesses against the Warden.

"We found no physical evidence of sexual assault at the time - no sexual bruising, tearing or bleeding, although he had a cut on his lip.  Also no semen, although since he was covered in blood, it could have been lost when we cleaned him off.  There was extensive bruising all over his body, some of which was due to the attack on Saturday."

"Why did you check for sexual assault?"

"He'd cut his wrists.  We generally assume that something prompts a suicide attempt.  We also checked his vitals and took blood samples.  There was a negligible amount of alcohol in his system, no drugs."

"Did you believe he had been sexually assaulted?"

"Yes, I did.  I do."

"Why?"

"There were bruises along his torso, one in the form of a handprint, also several bruises on his hips and thighs.  Several marks where somebody's nails bit into his skin.  Also a bite mark on the side of his neck.  Not what you'd see if the fight involved a pack of smokes.  A few buttons were missing from his clothing as well, although that could have happened during the struggle at the infirmary."

"Struggle?"

"Mr. Curtis became agitated when he was brought into the infirmary.  He had to be placed in five-point restraints.  This is not unusual in self-harm."

"So why didn't your report say he'd been sexually assaulted?"

"Because that's all there was, the bruises, the bite and the nail marks.  Nothing conclusive."

"Did anybody ask him?"

"Yes, a nurse did, and he told her he'd been sexually attacked but not raped.  He was still heavily sedated at the time though.  He left before he could be fully questioned."

"Do you think it's possible he was raped?"

"It's remotely possible.  There was a great deal of blood on him, it could have washed off other forensic evidence such as semen.  Personally I don't believe there was penetration, but Mr. Gonzalez could have ejaculated during the attack.  And Mr. Curtis doesn't remember what happened terribly clearly, he was quite traumatized.  It's not unusual to block out events that the mind can't deal with."

"You don't think it's likely though?"

"No, I don't.  It would be somewhat unusual for a first-time sexual encounter of this type to leave no trace, no bruising or tearing.  Especially with Mr. Gonzalez."

"Why is that?"

"He's been rather brutal in the past.  One of his previous conquests required six stitches."

"Dr. Udall, Mr. Gonzalez alleges that they did have sexual intercourse, but that it was consensual.  Is that possible?"

"If you define consent as agreeing to something because you know you're going to die otherwise, then yes, it's remotely possible.  If Mr. Gonzalez was somewhat uncharacteristically careful, and used a condom, there could have been no evidence.  I don't think it's terribly likely." The doctor paused and added impatiently, "Look, whether there was penetration or not doesn't actually matter.  There's no way anything happened that had anything to do with consent.  Gonzalez is a vicious monster, well-known for mind games.  He's a-"

"Objection!"

"Stick to the facts, please, Dr. Udall," the judge reminded him.

"Fine, forget mind games.  I have infirmary records describing what this man has done to other inmates.  He tortures them physically and psychologically.  He victimizes inmates who are young, or weak, or part of a group that doesn't have much support inside, such as former law enforcement officers like Mr. Curtis." He looked over at Gonzalez with contempt.

"I don't care what these men have done to get into prison.  I'm sick and tired of seeing them come in torn up and having to sew them back up and nobody give a damn about it.  And having them sold like property - the guards are supposed to protect them.  You know how many of them actually give a damn about protecting them?  Not a lot.  They're disposable."

"Objection!"

"Dr. Udall," the judge said warningly.

"Mr. Curtis almost died.  I watched him suffering for two days.  He was clearly having nightmares and flashbacks and all I could do was keep putting him under.  And the guards didn't give a sh- a damn.  They joked about it.  Even I wasn't that concerned about him because right across the aisle we had this other kid who'd been passed around among six other inmates and he was in even worse shape. I'm sick of it.  Nobody deserves that.  It's inhuman."

===

_Tuesday, April 6  
10:20am_

In the last few days, two other staff from the infirmary had given testimony about Rey's admission.  Jack had testified about his attempts to get Rey transferred to Segregation and the Warden's refusal to do so despite clear evidence that Rey was in danger.  Bayliss, Jorgenson and Chang, three inmates from Rey's block, had testified as to the events of December 27-30, and had testified that Gonzalez had initiated all contact, using threats of gang-rape or death to coerce compliance.  Bayliss had also testified that he had given Rey the idea to cut in order to get sent to the infirmary, and given Rey the knife he'd used. Chang testified that she had been present when Gonzalez paid Johnson $20 to look the other way.  Jorgenson testified about what he had seen of the attack on Rey in his cell on the day he cut.

Southerlyn had had each of the three briefly tell the jury what kind of abuse they had suffered at the hands of other inmates, and talk about the guard's attitudes towards them and towards Rey; specifically the attitudes and actions of Officer Johnson, the head guard of Block H.

Now it was Rey's turn.  He and Southerlyn had gone through his testimony a few times in preparation for today, so it was somewhat easier to tell it now, but it still felt raw, painful.  However much he tried to distance himself, he still found himself reliving it in flashes.

Finally the factual testimony was done and Southerlyn was gently asking him about the aftermath of those days.  He'd told her he wasn't willing to go into detail, and she'd agreed to only ask a few questions and back off if he felt uncomfortable.

"I've had nightmares, trouble sleeping.  I startle easily.  It's - it's hard to relax, I'm on edge a lot of the time.  I have flashbacks - makes it hard to keep an even keel because I never really know when something's going to set me off."

"What about your relationship with your wife?  Has that been affected?"

He looked at Deborah and smiled at her slightly.  "We're... we're still working on it."  He cleared his throat.  "It's taken time to... to feel comfortable with intimacy again."  He shook his head at Southerlyn slightly.  That was as much as she was going to get.  She nodded at him encouragingly and stepped back, ceding the floor to the defense.

===

"You're seeing a psychiatrist right now, aren't you Mr. Curtis?" asked Ernest Parra, Gonzalez's lawyer.  He'd just spent the last hour grilling Rey on the facts in dispute between his version of events and Gonzalez's, as well as throwing in occasional questions about Rey's own history and character.  Rey forced himself to maintain the even tone he'd kept during all of Parra's cross-examining so far.

"Yes, I am."

"Care to elaborate on that?"

"Not really."

"I'm afraid that wasn't a choice.  Why are you seeing a psychiatrist?"

"Work-related stress."

"It's a little more than that, isn't it?  Weren't you ordered to undergo psychiatric treatment by your supervisor, after you attacked two of your coworkers shortly after your release in January?"

"Yes."

"Weren't you also suspended?"

"Yes."

"And seeing a psychiatrist - wasn't that a condition of your going back to work?"

"Yes."

"Would you say that you have a violent temper, Mr. Curtis?"

"Sometimes."

"Like when you attacked Mr. Gonzalez-"

"I didn't attack him.  I didn't even see him before he put a knife to my throat."

"That's your version of events," Parra pointed out.  "Now, let's go over that day again, shall we?"

Rey suppressed a sigh.  This was getting tedious.  Parra kept going over the same facts, over and over again, occasionally throwing in little curve balls like this or like his own sexual history - which had been ruled admissible after all - in order to try to shake him.  It felt a lot like when he was being interrogated after his arrest.

Well, he'd known this was going to happen.  And he reminded himself that in theory, he wasn't on trial this time.  If his testimony didn't go well, his own freedom wasn't at stake.  The worst that would happen was that Gonzalez, Johnson and Gether would be found not guilty.  He patiently went through the day in question with Parra again, until Parra again took an unexpected turn.

"This problem with your coworkers that resulted in your becoming violent - what was that about?"

Rey made himself stop and think for a moment.  He knew the drill for cross-examinations, he'd gone through it enough times as a cop.  When being cross-examined, a witness has to imagine every word they say as a point for the other side and just say as little as possible.  Don't give in to the temptation to elaborate - let the other side work for any information they want.

Not that he felt any temptation to elaborate.  The biggest temptation he felt right now was to get up and just get the hell out of this courtroom.  But he did have to figure out how to describe what happened the day he was suspended without going into unnecessary detail.

"I lost my temper because of something one of them said."

"Something about your time in prison, wasn't it?  Some rather lewd insinuations?"

"Yes."

"Hit a little too close to home, didn't they?"

"Yes."

"You don't feel too good about what you did in Sing Sing, do you?"

Rey thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully.  "I don't feel very good about what happened.  It was difficult to hear my assault being joked about at work."

"Your alleged assault," Parra corrected him.  He paused for a moment.  "You've lied on the stand before, haven't you, Mr. Curtis?" he said abruptly.

"Yes, I have," Rey said calmly, briefly meeting Jack and Jamie's eyes in the courtroom.  They'd all been wondering when this was going to come up. There was a rustle from the jury.

"So why should we believe you now?"

"I was accused of murder and I took a plea.  The plea required me to allocute-"

"The point is, you committed perjury once.  Why should we believe anything you say?"

"Why would I lie about this?  Why would I bring charges if what he says is true?" Rey asked, beginning to lose his patience and getting tired of being attacked.

"I don't presume to know what's going on in your head, Mr. Curtis," Parra said condescendingly.  "I'm just pointing out that you're not the most credible witness in the world, whether you were innocent or not."  He paused to gather himself before turning on Rey forcefully.  "You chose to offer sexual services to Mr. Gonzalez in exchange for protection.  It's hardly his fault that you couldn't live with having done that.  It's hardly Mr. Johnson's fault or Mr. Gether's that they couldn't protect you from the consequences of your own actions."

"Is there a question on the horizon, Your Honour?" Southerlyn asked.

"Put yourself in the jury's place, Mr. Curtis.  If you were on the jury, would you find your story credible?  I mean, besides the infirmary staff's speculations, all you've really got on your side is the testimony of three cons who are probably just testifying to get a field trip out of Sing Sing for a day.  Not exactly reliable.  Would you be able to believe, beyond a reasonable doubt, the word of a man who's committed perjury before, who's under psychiatric care, who's known to be violent, whose sexual history isn't the most pristine, against another perfectly reasonable explanation of events?  What do you think?"

Rey felt his throat closing and paused, looking down.  No, he probably wouldn't.  Put like that, it didn't sound believable at all.  He cleared his throat and breathed deeply a few times, then put up a hand as Parra drew breath to prompt him again.  "Just - just gimme a minute."

"Your Honour, could you please direct the witness to answer the question?"

"I, I will, Your Honour, I just need a second."  He covered his eyes, keeping his face impassive, willing down his emotions.  Not here, he thought to himself.  Not on the stand.  You've testified dozens of times over the years, you even testified at your own murder trial, you can do this.  What happened in Sing Sing is over and done, and it was nothing like what he's described.

Jamie and Jack glanced at each other.  Shit.  They'd pushed him too hard, they should have known better.  Come on, Rey, you can do this, Jamie thought at him, heartsick.  You can do this.  You've gotten through almost an hour of this.  Shake it off.  Don't let this shyster's filthy insinuations get to you now.

"Mr. Curtis," Parra said, impatient.

"Your Honour-" Southerlyn began quietly.  The judge nodded.

"Keep your shirt on, Mr. Parra," he said dismissively.  "This is not a race to the finish line.  We're not in any hurry."

Breathe, Rey thought to himself.  Hold yourself together.  Think of Deborah, out in the courtroom, feel her steadying presence.  Feel Jack and Jamie and Father Morelli's support too.  You know what really happened.  You did nothing to be ashamed of.  Just because this jerk is saying this crap in court does not make all of it true.

And the parts that are true... well, they're true.  So what.  That doesn't change the fact that you're telling the truth about what happened.

"Your Honour, if the witness refuses to answer, I suggest we strike his testimony," Parra said disparagingly, trying to bully Rey into answering.  Rey felt a surge of anger.  The son of a bitch could clearly see, they could all clearly see, that he was just trying to keep what little dignity he had left, and here was this lawyer trying to goad him into breaking down.  Slimy bastard.  Abruptly he felt the threatening tears recede, cleared away by indignation at Parra's tactics.

"I'm fine, Your Honour."  He cleared his throat and met Gonzalez's smirking gaze.  "I think your client is a pathetic piece of garbage, is what I think.  He used a knife and three friends to overpower one unarmed man, then he used the threat of gang-rape to coerce sexual favours.  And he has the nerve to call that consent."  He continued, still staring right at Gonzalez, his voice dripping with disdain, "And now he looks down on me because I didn't think his idea of manhood was worth dying for, and he has the gall to say it was all my idea from the beginning."  His gaze flicked contemptuously over Johnson and the Warden.  "And his co-defendants are pimps in uniform.  Do you have any other questions?"

Deborah closed her eyes and loosened her grip on Father Morelli's hand, almost dizzy with relief.  She had almost stopped breathing, watching Rey struggle to keep a hold of himself, knowing that he would never forgive himself if he gave Rico Gonzalez the satisfaction of seeing him break down.  She had sent him all the love and support she could, imagining a line stretching between them as a conduit for all of her steadiness.  And who knew if that had helped, if he'd somehow managed to find the inner strength to get a grip, or if it had just been Parra's clumsy attempt to bully him.  Who cared.

===

_Thursday, April 8  
10:23 am_

"It was consensual.  I didn't have to put a gun to his head."

"No, of course not, you had a knife."

Gonzalez shook his head, amused at Southerlyn.  He'd briefly told his own version of events, which the jury had already pretty much heard already from his lawyer, and now he was being cross-examined.  And it was rather clear that he wasn't taking any of it seriously.  And why should he?  He stood to lose nothing.

Southerlyn had been surprised to find out that Gonzalez was going to be taking the stand at all.  Something in Parra's manner when he'd informed her told her that Gonzalez was going against his lawyer's advice.  She and Jack and Jamie had quickly concluded that Gonzalez was probably taking the stand as one more way to thumb his nose at all of them.  He probably had no shame about what had actually happened - the only reason he was fighting the charge at all was that if he were convicted, it would make Johnson and Gether's convictions more likely.  But he wasn't the most altruistic or intelligent person in the world, and Southerlyn intended to take advantage of that.

"Mr. Gonzalez?"

"Yeah, that's what he says.  But hey, he's even admitted that what he did in the common room, he did of his own free will.  Nobody had to force him," Gonzalez smirked at Rey, sitting in the courtroom.  Rey swallowed hard but didn't look away as Deborah squeezed his arm.  "And he told you when he got that bite mark.  He was letting me do whatever I wanted.  He lay down on that bed himself.  That bitch gave it up for me no problem, of his own free will."

In the courtroom, Jamie felt her stomach churn.  Rey shouldn't be hearing this vile filth.  She felt a pang of guilt for putting him through this, but reminded herself that he was the one who had decided to be in the courtroom for Gonzalez's testimony.

"He claims he wasn't on the bed that long," Southerlyn pointed out.

"That's what he says, sure.  Think he wants to admit to anything else?"

"So... all the bruises he had?"

"Like the doctor said, he was fighting them pretty hard in the infirmary.  That's probably where he got hurt."

"The infirmary staff hit him across the face hard enough to bruise, just to get him into restraints?"

"Nah, lady, that was Johnson-" Gonzalez chuckled, and cut himself off abruptly as Johnson glared at him.  Southerlyn gave Johnson a measured look, briefly wishing he had also been stupid enough to take the stand.  Then she turned back to Gonzalez.

"What about what Mr. Jorgenson said he saw that day, you and your friends attacking Mr. Curtis?"

"Snapple - Mr. Jorgenson - he's got a real good imagination.  Besides, his Daddy's not my biggest fan.  Snapple's probably just testifying cause he's following orders from him.  Same with Bayliss and Dawn.  None of their Daddies is a real good frienda mine."

"And what about the nail marks the infirmary staff saw - are you saying they did that to him too?"

"So he likes it rough," Gonzalez chuckled.  There was a rustle of disbelief from the jury, and Southerlyn noticed Parra's face going studiously blank.  "Hey, maybe you don't like to hear that very much, but that's the way it was," Gonzalez said to the jury defiantly.

"Really," Southerlyn made her voice as skeptical as she could.  "You really expect anybody to buy that?  And why didn't you bring this up before?"

"I-"

"Come on.  With everything that's come out about his sex life, do you honestly think that wouldn't have come up?  You couldn't find one shred of that kind of evidence, could you?" Southerlyn glanced at Parra, who was nonchalantly studying his fingernails, and suppressed a smile.  This was part of why she liked being a prosecutor - she didn't have to deal with clients who insisted on taking the stand and derailing their own case through their stupidity and arrogance.

"Those marks... there was a bit of a struggle between you, wasn't there?"

"Look, so things got a little rough.  But that wasn't attempted rape, it was just because he was complaining, saying he changed his mind."

"When did he change his mind?"

"After the first time, when he consented."

"You wanted to have sex again and he resisted?"

"Nah, that would be attempted rape, wouldn't it?" Gonzalez smiled at her innocently.  "We were just scaring him.  Lettin' him know that you don't go back on a deal in Sing Sing."

"'We'?  You and your friends?"

Gonzalez flushed slightly, but didn't bother to answer her.

"Why didn't you admit to that before?"

"I knew what it would sound like.  I knew it would sound like what happened was what he said.  But that's not what it was like.  We weren't trying to mess with him, it was more like a... bar fight or something.  We didn't do anything to him.  And it was after he'd already had sex with consent."

"There was no physical evidence that he ever did."

"Course not.  Cause it wasn't rape.  It was just a transaction between a real man and a two-bit whore."

"There's absolutely no evidence other than your word that he ever offered to take part in any kind of transaction with you.  Plenty of evidence that you threatened him."

"Yeah, from three other whores.  They follow orders and they hang together."  Southerlyn gazed at Gonzalez expressionlessly and he continued, reddening, "Yeah, you had them come in and give their sob stories.  They said they're so scared of dying they fell on their backs instead - hell, they still had a choice.  They coulda chosen to die."

"Like Mr. Curtis could've chosen to die too, instead of doing what you wanted him to?"

Gonzalez started to nod, then stopped.  "Nah.  He said somebody threatened him in the infirmary, he coulda just dealt with that like a man.  He didn't need to come to me for protection.  He coulda dealt with that himself."

"How?  By trying to fight off somebody else, like he tried to fight off you and your friends?"

"Yeah.  That was his choice."

"So you admit you did attack him, along with your friends, on the last day."

"Fine, yeah.  I told you, cause he consented, then changed his mind."

"So he was beaten up when he 'changed his mind', then he almost killed himself to get away from you.  That doesn't sound much like consent," Southerlyn pointed out calmly.

"Yeah?  Well I'll tell you something, lady, a real man would rather die than spread his legs for another man.  He didn't like to find that out about himself, that he didn't have the balls to fight back except when he panicked.  He was real tough when he had a badge and a gun, but put him in my house, and he was nothing but a pussy.  That's why he cut himself.  Not my fault."

"Charming.  The fact that you threatened his life and that he had a wife and four children to live for had nothing to do with anything.  The fact that it took more courage for him to lie down on that bed, however long he was there, than it would have to just fight you from the beginning, that doesn't fit into your definition of a real man.  A real man is a shining example of masculinity such as yourself.  You're serving a life sentence for trying to kill your ex-girlfriend and for killing her new boyfriend, aren't you?"

"Bitch was stepping out on me."  There was another rustle from the jury.  "Hey, I'm no saint but I'm not a rapist," Gonzalez said smugly, daring Southerlyn to contradict him.  Meeting Rey's eyes with a smirk.

Jack swallowed hard.  One of the things they had discovered while preparing for this case was that Gonzalez actually had committed aggravated rape before coming to prison, but had never been convicted.  The charge had been dropped at the last minute, and was thus inadmissible.  So even though the bastard was arrogantly taking the stand, they couldn't even point to his record as a convicted rapist.  Rey's own record had been used to damage his credibility as a witness, while Rico Gonzalez sat in the witness chair and put forth his version of events unchallenged by his own past deeds.

It had been a particularly unpleasant shock for Jack to see that the name signed on the plea was his own.  He had no memory of the case or the plea - not surprising, since it had been eight years ago - but he could guess his motivation for dropping the rape charge.  The sick pervert was going away for life for murder and aggravated assault anyway; what did it matter what other official charges were tacked on or dropped?  He wasn't going to be able to hurt anybody any more.

Anybody except other inmates, that is.

Although maybe that hadn't been the whole story.  The plea was dated a few days after Mickey Scott's execution and Claire Kincaid's death.  When he'd been sleepwalking through life, and had probably dropped the ball on the job more than once.  Had the plea been just business as usual, a perfectly normal deal between opposing lawyers, or the result of unclear thinking, grief and exhaustion on his part?  He'd stared at his signature, realizing that he would probably never know.

Southerlyn was shaking her head in disgust.  "So you expect us to believe your version of events.  That he attacked you, then came to you for protection, had sex with you voluntarily, then when he resisted the second time, you got just a little rough - just to scare him, not to 'mess' with him - and then he tried to kill himself out of... what?  Wounded pride?"  She looked at him curiously for a moment.  "Does that story make sense to you?"  Gonzalez stared at her impassively.

"And all this despite testimony to the contrary from various staff and inmates - oh, I forgot, they're all just following orders from enemies of yours on the inside."  She walked away from him.  "Please, Mr. Gonzalez.  Give us a little credit."  She glanced back at him as she sat down.  "I'm done with this witness."

===

"Got a beard now, huh baby?  You know I don't like stubble."

Rey turned around from the drinking fountain, surprised to hear Gonzalez's voice.  Gonzalez stood shackled between two guards, ready to be transported back to Riker's for the night.

"So you feel like a big man now, telling everybody what happened?"

"Did you feel like a big man having three of your friends holding me down?" Rey asked him quietly.

"They didn't have to hold you down every time, did they?" Gonzalez smirked.  "I scared the hell outta you.  You were shaking like a leaf."

"Yeah, you did.  You scared the hell outta me and I've had nightmares for months."  He shrugged.  "I'll get over it."

"That your wife over there?  The gimp?"  Rey glanced over at where Deborah waited with Jack and Jamie, their faces registering alarm and Jack starting towards him.  Rey made a gesture at Jack, indicating he was OK.  "So, baby... your wife know what you're having nightmares about?"

"Yeah, she does.  She's the one who usually wakes me up," Rey smiled at Deborah slightly before turning back to Gonzalez.  "Who wakes you up from your nightmares, Rico?"

"Fuck you," Gonzalez said, his face growing dark.  Rey's dismissive gazed flicked over him.

"Nice suit," he remarked and walked away, smiling reassuringly at Deborah and giving her a quick kiss before taking them both out of the courthouse.

===

_Friday, April 9  
11:02am_

"What you're being asked to do here today is figure out the truth between two versions of events between December 27 and December 30.  Mr. Curtis would have you believe that he was threatened with severe bodily harm or death by Mr. Gonzalez if he did not cooperate, and that when he was unable to continue to cooperate, he was viciously attacked and almost gang-raped.  He would have you believe that he risked his life and cut his own wrists in order to get sent to the infirmary, because the authorities who were supposed to protect him had refused to take him out of harm's way, and indeed, had contributed to the danger he was in."  Parra approached the jury box, looking at each of the jurors in turn.

"To prove this theory of events, the prosecution has presented the testimony of three inmates, the speculation of hospital staff who were not actually present at any of the events described, and the word of the alleged victim, Mr. Curtis."  Parra paused and gathered himself.

"Well.  Three criminals?  Inmates Bayliss and Jorgenson are a convicted murderer and drug dealer, respectively.  _Miz_ Chang is a transvestite, a habitual thief, and a drug dealer.  Very reliable," he dismissed them sarcastically.

"And we all know how reliable Mr. Curtis' word is.  He's admitted to committing perjury before.  The prosecution has made a big deal out of the fact that he was innocent of the charge that he was serving time for, but let's please not forget that he walked into that prison himself, on the strength of his own perjured testimony."  He turned and looked at Gonzalez.

"The defendants present a rather more believable picture of events.  Mr. Gonzalez, it's true, is no angel.  Not only is he in for murder, but we all know that his actions last December weren't exactly ethical.  In a perfect world, he would not have taken advantage of Mr. Curtis' fear for his own safety by accepting the deal that was offered.  But let's not kid ourselves.  This kind of thing happens in prisons all the time, and a man like Mr. Gonzalez can hardly be blamed for seeing that he stood to gain something from it.  Simply put, there was an exchange of sex for protection, much like sex for money or sex for drugs.  We may convict people of availing themselves of the services of prostitutes, but it can hardly be called rape."

He turned to the jury and cautioned, "Not that we're judging what Mr. Curtis did, or calling it prostitution, per se.  In the situation he found himself in, fearing for his life, what he did was what anybody might do.  But we also can't call what happened to him a sexual assault.  And we certainly can't blame Mr. Gonzalez for how Mr. Curtis felt about his own actions afterwards."

He spared a glance at Johnson and Gether.  "And as for Officer Johnson and Warden Gether... there is not one shred of real evidence that they acted in anything other than accordance with their duties.  For Officer Johnson there's some dubious testimony from inmates who are unhappy with their social status in Sing Sing, and unfounded speculation from infirmary staff who, as we pointed out before, were not there for the actual events in question.  For Warden Gether, we have Mr. McCoy's testimony that Warden Gether refused to bend the rules for his friend.  Well, since when do we convict people for not bending the rules?"

"Since when do we call a john a rapist?  Since when do we convict officers of the law on the word of disgruntled felons?  Since when do we prosecute government officials for simply doing their jobs?"  Parra finished, gazed at the jury for a moment, then sat down.

Southerlyn stood before the jury and gazed at them thoughtfully before beginning her closing statement.  "Rey Curtis was sold for $20.  And if it wasn't for sheer luck, he would have been brutalized by four men, for $20.  Or he would have bled to death trying to escape that fate.  His four children would have lost their father, his widow would have ended her days in a nursing home.  For less than the price of a pair of shoes."  She paused, letting that sink into their minds.

"Now as it happens, Mr. Curtis hadn't done anything wrong.  He had committed no crime, and his verdict was overturned two days after he landed in the infirmary with self-inflicted wounds.  But that isn't the point.  Don't try to dismiss this by telling yourselves that what happened to him is too bad, but it's just what happens in prison."  Southerlyn began slowly pacing before the jury.

"We're not here just because Rey Curtis was injured while wrongfully incarcerated.  We're here because what happened to him shouldn't happen to anybody, innocent or guilty.  When we find a man or woman guilty of a crime and send them to prison, incarceration _is_ the punishment.  Rape isn't."

"We take away their liberty, we take away their choices, we take them from their families and we put them in an environment where they are watched and confined and not given much in the way of luxuries or choices about what to do or when to do it.  We do this to punish them, to rehabilitate them, and to protect society from them."  She stopped her slow pacing and faced the jury.

"We do not sentence them to rape or forced prostitution.  That isn't what the judge hands down as a punishment."

She resumed pacing.  "And the guards are there to keep the prisoners in line, keep them from escaping, and keep them from harming each other, to the best of their ability.  They are not there to enforce a system of sexual slavery for profit.  Guards like Philip Johnson are not supposed to pimp the men under their protection.  The Warden is not supposed to put them in the line of fire in order to make a point about what happens to cops who break the law."

"We all know that men aren't sent to Sing Sing as a reward for being choirboys.  But they also aren't sent to Sing Sing to provide guards with beer money with their bodies.  We all know that sexual victimization is going to happen.  But that doesn't mean that we should turn a blind eye to it, excuse it, institutionalize it, allow it to be standard modus operandi.  Any more than we should allow any crime to flourish just because 'it's going to happen anyway'.  Prison rape is a crime, and like any other crime, it needs to be dealt with.  Stopped whenever possible, prosecuted whenever possible."

"Not made part of the justice system.  That's not justice."


	7. Closure

**CHAPTER 7: CLOSURE**

_Friday, April 9  
4:02pm_

Rey puzzled over an internal memo on triplicate forms as he picked up the phone on the second ring.  "Curtis," he absently spoke into the receiver.

"Rey, it's Jack."  Rey sat up, the memo forgotten.  "The jury just came back.  Guilty for Gonzalez and Johnson, not guilty for Gether."  Rey let out his breath.

"Guilty?" he repeated numbly.  "Johnson too?"

"Criminal Facilitation."

"Not just Criminal Negligence?" Rey asked, astonished.

"No.  Jamie's disappointed that the Warden didn't-"

"Oh, hell, the Warden was a long shot, Jack, we all knew that," Rey said.  "I was surprised the Grand Jury indicted him in the first place.  But Johnson..." he shook his head in disbelief.  "I really expected him to take a walk."

"Well, he may not be walking anywhere but a prison yard for a while.  Sentencing starts next week.  We'll see."

"He could be facing jail time?"

"It's possible," Jack said.  "I'm sure if he does his lawyer will ask for protective custody for him."

"Let's hope he has better luck with that than I did," Rey said, part of him a little surprised at himself.  He'd never thought of himself as a forgiving person, but... he realized he really didn't wish what happened to him on anybody.  Even Johnson.

There was a brief pause, neither one of them sure what else to say.  Into the silence, Rey heard Jamie's voice in the background, and Jack saying, "Not now, Jamie."

"That Jamie?"

"Yes."

"She wants you to ask me about the civil suit?" Rey guessed.  The silence on the other end was all the answer he needed.  He sighed in half-amused exasperation.  "She just doesn't let up, does she?"  He hesitated for a moment, then said, "I'm not making any promises, but tell her to call me in a week."

"OK."

"Uh - I have to get back to-", "I better let you get back to work-" they both spoke simultaneously, and laughed.

"OK.  Thanks for calling, Jack."  Rey put down the phone, chewing on his lip pensively.

"Good news?" Brackin stood next to his desk.

"Uh - yeah," Rey answered, somewhat startled as always on those rare occasions when a colleague interacted with him socially.  He usually avoided the people at his office, and didn't have a job where there was much need for interaction, so he often went for days without talking to anybody.

"What was it?"

Rey shook his head.  "It would take too long to explain.  What's up?"

"Oh, I just wanted to thank you for catching my fuck-up with the quarterly report before it went to Bensen."  Rey looked at him blankly.  "The allocation for bulletproof vests?  I missed a zero?"

"Oh, yeah," Rey smiled.  "No problem."

"Well, thanks.  And thanks for not telling Bensen about it.  I hate looking like an idiot."  Rey waved off his thanks.  "Hey, uh, how's the trial going?" Brackin asked quickly.

"What?"

"I heard you pressed charges against some of the people that... that hurt you in prison."  Rey looked at him curiously.  "I just uh, I just wanted to say, good for you, man.  That takes guts."

"Uh - thanks."

"Yeah, and uh, good luck with it."  Rey nodded and started to turn back to his work, then cleared his throat.

"Actually... um, that's what the call was about."  Brackin looked at him questioningly.  "Yeah.  Guilty."

"Yeah?  Hey, congratulations!" Brackin grinned, and Rey smiled back at him and turned back to his work

He stared at the memo for a minute, his mind elsewhere.  He hadn't been at court today, the last day of the trial.  He'd thought he would be - he'd attended the last day of many trials he'd been involved in as a cop, and knew that many victims attended to the very end.  But at one point he'd been talking to his brother on the phone, telling him about the trial, and had realized that he'd done all he needed to do for his own peace of mind.  He'd done what he could to make sure justice was served, and there was no point in missing yet another day of work just to be there for the outcome.

Besides, he didn't particularly want to be near anybody if the trial ended in acquittals despite everything.  He'd told himself it didn't really matter to him, but hadn't wanted to find out if he was right.

It had been the right decision, not attending today.  One more way to take back control of his life.  But suddenly he needed to share the outcome of the trial with somebody.  He picked up the phone and dialed, smiling as it was picked up.

"Deborah?  The jury came back."

===

"What do you think?" Jamie asked as Jack put down the phone.

"I think he'll help out."

"It would have been better if the Warden had been convicted as well."

"I know.  But we all knew that probably wasn't going to fly.  This still looks good for your civil case."

Jamie checked her watch.  "I better go, I've got to get Katie's things ready for tonight.  Neil's in New York and he's taking her for the weekend."

"How's that going?"

"We've worked out an armed truce," Jamie smiled.  "I'll talk to you later."

"Goodbye, Jamie." Jack watched the courtroom empty, then approached Southerlyn to congratulate her on a job well done.

===

_Eight Weeks Later  
Saturday, June 5  
9:03pm_

"So then Serena apparently backed away and tried to just let it go, but the other kid grabbed her and she, uh, she hauled off and hit him."  Rey glanced at his watch and opened up the top cupboard where the pills were kept, taking out six bottles and a glass. "Another week's suspension.  I thought maybe she'd get expelled, but the teacher who saw the whole thing said they should give her some credit for the fact that she really tried to back off."

"She's a challenge," Lennie said.

Rey filled the glass and counted out pills from each of the bottles.  "Yeah, she is.  She's doing a lot better though.  Never thought I'd be saying that about a kid of mine who's been suspended five times," he chuckled.  Lennie smiled.  He'd noticed that Rey didn't get all that upset about Serena's behaviour any more, even though sometimes it really was pretty bad.  The fact that she was doing her best and was improving seemed to go a long way.

Rey put the pills on a small dish and set it aside for Deborah, palmed one of the pills and downed it, grimacing at the taste and washing it down.  "That kid's an idiot, too," he remarked.  "Serena's had problems with him before." He took the pills into Deborah's room, returning in a few minutes.

"You still on the meds?" Lennie asked.  Rey nodded.

"Yeah, the shrink says I'll probably be on it for a long time."  He put the pill bottles back in the cupboard and shrugged.  "That's OK though.  I'm used to it now, I can accept it.  I mean, I still hate it, but I hate depression more, so... oh, you know what was funny?  There was this Mainstay meeting, Caregivers and Depression, and it just sorta degenerated into this debate over the pros and cons of different anti-depressants.  Turned out like half of us were on something," he chuckled.

"Yeah, I can imagine that," Lennie said, reflecting that taking care of an invalid would certainly depress the hell out of him.  Gloria's 'womanly trouble' days used to be enough to drive him around the bend.

"Yeah.  Hey, you accept going to AA meetings, right?  What the hell, you do what you have to and get on with your life.  Oh, speaking of meetings... you're never gonna believe this one, they were really desperate for presenters at Mainstay last week, so," he paused for a moment, slightly embarrassed but mostly highly amused, "I'm doing one next month for, get this, MS and Intimacy, I cannot believe I let myself get talked into that one."  They shared a laugh as Lennie tried to imagine the normally very private Rey voluntarily talking about intimacy in public.  Looked like he was OK with it, though.

"Things going good with Deborah?"

"Yeah," Rey smiled inwardly.  "Yeah.  Really good," he said softly.  He cleared his throat and changed the subject.  "So what time are we meeting Jack?"

"He said he'll be there in about an hour."

===

"Jamie said the suit's looking good so far," Jack told Lennie as Lennie set up a shot.  "It's still in the early stages and it'll probably take years, but the fact that Johnson's appeal got turned down is very promising."

"I'm sure having Mr. NYPD before the 'et. Al.' is very promising too," Lennie teased Rey as he took aim.  Rey rolled his eyes in mock annoyance - he'd received some ribbing from Lennie after Lennie had heard Lisa call him the 'poster boy for inmate's rights', but he took it good-naturedly.  Lennie sank a ball.  "Somehow I never pictured the guy I partnered with taking a civil suit against the New York Correctional Service.  That guy woulda thought anything up to and including burning at the stake was too good for cons."

"That guy woulda run screaming from this lawsuit," Rey agreed.  "Hell, that guy woulda run screaming from just about everything about my life right now.  And I gotta say, I'm not real thrilled about the lawsuit either, but... Jamie's right.  There's gotta be a limit to what happens in there."  He thought for a moment of the 'et. Al.' - Tim Bayliss, Snapple Jorgenson, Dawn Chang, Neil Jasinski, and almost a dozen other inmates that Jamie's group had persuaded to join the class action suit.  Deliberately turned his thoughts away, because that led down a rather morbid path.  He could too easily have been one of them.

"You know, I never asked, but how did you and Jamie know who to ask about what happened?" Rey asked Jack as Lennie set up his next shot.  "In the prison, I mean?  I woulda thought you'd run up against the inmate code of silence.  How'd you end up talking to Bayliss and Jorgenson and Chang?"

"You told me about Bayliss in the infirmary.  You told me he'd given you the shiv to cut yourself."

"Did I tell you it was him?" Rey was a little surprised.  Jack had known Tim Bayliss - not well, but he had known him - and he didn't think he would have betrayed the fact that Tim was incarcerated, even in the heavily drugged state he'd been in.  Let alone the fact that Tim had broken a number of prison rules by providing him with a shiv.

"No, but you told me an ex-cop from Baltimore gave you the idea to cut, and the blade.  I knew Bayliss was in."

"So did I," Lennie said.  "John Munch got very drunk one night and told me about it."

"Do you know anything about his case?"

"Some," said Jack.  "I ran into a couple of Baltimore attorneys shortly after it happened.  They told me a bit about it."

"What's he in for?"

"Murder."

"I know that, but murdering who?"

"Didn't he tell you?  I was under the impression that the two of you had spent a lot of time together."

"We didn't talk much about the outside world," Rey said shortly.

"He murdered a serial killer who got off on a technicality.  He did it in cold blood.  Then he took off for several months, came back, confessed to Frank Pembleton, and was tried and convicted."

"Pembleton turned him in?" Rey asked.  That would be awful - turning in your former partner.  Lennie looked sombre as he sank the eight ball.

"He had to.  Bayliss confessed."  Lennie shook his head, setting up the table again.  "What?  Wouldn't you?" Jack asked Lennie.  Lennie looked at him, not knowing what to say.  He'd gotten too close to that situation when Rey was staying at his place.

"Wouldn't you?" Rey asked.

"What?"

"Wouldn't you have turned me in?"  Silence.  "You doubted me.  I know you did.  What if you'd found evidence that convinced you I did it?  Wouldn't you have turned me in?"  Lennie spread his hands.  He really didn't know.

"Would you?" he asked Rey back.  Rey thought for a moment.

"I don't know.  A few years ago I would have said definitely, but... I don't know any more.  I didn't want to turn Serena in even when I thought she might be guilty."  He shrugged and changed the subject.  "Anyway, what was Tim doing in a New York prison?  Didn't his crime take place in Baltimore?"

"His lawyer got him transferred out of Maryland because he didn't want him to run into anybody he'd arrested," Jack said as he made the break.  Two striped balls in.

Rey nodded thoughtfully.  "Yeah, that was probably a good idea."

"I'm sorry, Rey, I should have done that for you," Jack said, his voice low.

"I think you were a little busy convincing my priest to break the seal of confession and trying to get me into Seg," Rey pointed out, as Jack missed his next shot and stepped back from the table.  "I didn't give you much time to transfer me out of state.  Besides, the transfer didn't do much to help Tim either."

"I'm sorry I couldn't get you put into Seg, then."

"There wasn't anything you could have done.  The Warden didn't want it to happen.  Nothing you did, nothing Gonzalez did to me, would have changed his mind."

"I just wish..."

"You saved my life, Jack," Rey said dismissively, sinking a ball.  "Don't apologize just because I got a few bumps and scratches along the way."

It wasn't just a few bumps and scratches, Jack wanted to point out, but didn't.  Although Rey was doing a lot better now, the last several months had been hellish.  Rey caught his look and dropped his eyes.

"I'm fine," he said.  Jack looked down at the table, and Rey cleared his throat.  "I'm fine," he repeated more firmly.  "If it wasn't for you, I woulda gone down for Murder Two and been sent to Sing Sing for fifteen at least.  I woulda died in there, and it wouldn't have been an easy death. "  Jack shuddered inwardly.  No, it wouldn't have been.  "I might even have gone down for Murder One, if some eager prosecutor convinced a jury I did it for the insurance money, committed Felony Murder.  Or what's more likely is I woulda killed myself before the trial even started.  Instead I'm alive and I'm back with my family.  So I have a few nightmares, it's a small price to pay.  At least I'm not living a nightmare all the time."  He took another shot, missed.

"So you don't remember telling me about Bayliss?" Jack asked.

"I don't really remember much about anything that happened between cutting and getting out.  It's all confused.  I have no idea how much was real and how much was hallucination."

"You said I looked like a leprechaun."  Rey snickered.  "I'm assuming that was an hallucination," Jack said dryly.

"No, you really do look like a leprechaun, Jack.  I'm surprised nobody ever told you that before," Rey said seriously.  Jack chuckled, sinking a ball.  "What else happened?  When you came to visit?"

"You told us about cutting yourself, then you told us what happened the day before."

"How much did I tell you?"

"Not much - just that Gonzalez tried again and a guard saved you.  You asked me to get you into Seg.  You said you tried to cooperate with Gonzalez but you couldn't make yourself do it.  Just talking about it made you sick."

Rey's eyes were grim as he nodded.  "Yeah, I imagine it would have.  I felt like puking most of the time I was inside."

"You were pretty out of it.  Then Deborah spoke to you for a long time."

"I remember that.  That's the one memory that stands out clearly, but it's so clear I thought maybe I just dreamed it.  I was so confused, I hardly even knew my own name.  But I remember her talking to me.  In Spanish?"

Jack nodded, and Rey indicated he should finish his turn.  Jack looked back at the table, not seeing many possibilities there.

"I think she was talking to me about the kids, and a movie they saw, and a story that Olivia was reading to her.  Funny, I don't remember much of anything else, but I remember that.  I was cuffed to the side of the bed, wasn't I?"

"Yes."  Jack finally settled on a shot.

"I couldn't even touch her face.  I wanted her to hold me, make me feel safe... all I had was her voice," he said softly, almost as if he was speaking to himself.  "I thought about her voice a lot for the next day or so.  God, I was so out of it.  Everything was so mixed up."  He brooded for a moment.  "I remember her leaving too, thought I was gonna die.  It felt like the sun was going out or something."

"You were pretty doped up.  You said they had you on painkillers and sedatives and 'all kindsa shit'," Jack took aim, surprising himself as two balls went in.

"You may learn to play this game yet, Jack," Lennie put in from the sideline.

"It's funny, my brother said that me still being with Deborah was pathetic, 'cause she's sick.  I wonder if he's ever felt about anybody the way I feel about her.  Like as long as she's there I can pretty much deal with anything."

"I don't think most people have ever felt like that about anybody.  You're lucky," Jack missed his next shot, and Lennie shook his head in mock dismay.

"Lucky," Rey repeated, and met Jack's eyes humorously.  "Not what most people would say to a guy who's been to prison, been assaulted, still clinically depressed, with a crippled wife, brain damaged daughter and no money in the bank, huh?"

"Maybe not."

"The funny thing is I kind of agree with you."  He set up a shot.  "You know... I never really said... um, I don't really know how to..." he took a deep breath, sank the ball and straightened up.  "I wish there was some way I could pay you guys back."

Lennie shrugged dismissively.

"You guys did a hell of a lot for me, and all I did for you was... well, I slammed both of you against a wall at one point or another.  Not very gracious."

"Don't worry about it."

"Hard not to.  I mean... you both saved my life.  And my family, and my sanity.  It's... I don't even know what to say.  'Thank you' sorta doesn't seem to cut it."

"Thanks is good enough for me.  You're welcome," said Jack.

"I'll never be able to repay you."

"So pay it forward some day," said Lennie.  Rey regarded him seriously for a long moment.

"Thanks, partner."

"No problem," Lennie smiled and indicated the table.  "Finish your turn, Rey."


End file.
